= 


Keg 
ee 


4, 
2 


os . 

ee 

Ses, Ste 
. 


> 


A ge 
+ 


o 


tae 


oy oa yo! . ‘ “Oey i : Eien 


ae 
= 


Coes 
<, oy 


oD 
iy Se tee : . p c ; now eit a 


oo 


.. +, 
et ae 
ity ait 


eee 
oy 


on . , ~ on 
Oye x ° Crees oy 
aS > : so 


wae! 





1B RA ae 


pt heological 5 2 len aa 


PRINCETON, N.. J. 


OGer GO lite C43 aoe 
Chadbourne, Paul A. 1823- 
1883. | 


| | ; | 
Instinct: its office in the | 


: = : . 
2nNn13I ms I le 4 nocdam and tte 


SS ee Ee 








tf ee aaa I 
é, Gare Ua Ay 










jad mee vbr TH RAL A De ae ae wt. SINESR Sy Si 


i 
a Se et Oe det weep tL ee 


7 * 
Per 
“se a 
. 
re 
4 
as 
Y 
- 


« 
* 
‘oe 
% 
” 
~~, 


ml hee HT CERWOY Sano any or, worn 


eS CO 
ve = 
; 7 


te n LA ton et Se PS 
“ . - 
a 
bd ; ays ~ 
“aa ~~ 
i as, ar: ¢ 
A} aol = : : 
> 7 . » _ 
ays ’ - 
~ fi 
- 
a - 7 ¥ 
} : 7 
<i ? by z 


@ sy ; : j y 
; r i, ey ps i e. — 
za a‘ | : oe ae ee eae Re | = peal a mI a ied, et F Sales bal of. a 
oe are Pe a). es, 


77 win 7 hs * t ; 7 te 


at Nasi 5 Kaenotele (Shaurde 90 oe ss, 
ae re ae s 
Ee “1a0a0al 


Waa Pale Cea Pa Ge ls eke BS: 


Ab tee ee A bye 





INSTINCT: 


ITS OFFICE IN THE ANIMAL KINGDOM, 
AND 


ITS RELATION TO THE HIGHER POWERS IN MAN. 


BY 
PavAe CHA DEOURNE. EL:D., 


AUTHOR OF “RELATIONS OF NATURAL HISTORY,” ‘NATURAL 
THEOLOGY,” ETC. 


NEW YORK: 
GEO. P. PUTNAM & SONS, 
ASSOCIATION BUILDING. 
ay ee 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
GEO. P. PUTNAM & SONS, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 





Wm. McCrea & Co., Stereotypers, Newburgh, N. Y. 


To 
GIDEON L. SOULE, LL.D., 


PRINCIPAL OF PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY. 


Srr,—I dedicate these Lectures to you with grateful remembrance of 
your counsels and instruction, and with sincere admiration for that schol- 
arship and wisdom which, for fifty years, have done so much for the honor 
and usefulness of the Institution over which you preside. 

With great respect and esteem, 


Iam most truly yours, 
P. A. CHADBOURNE, 































Pa y 
” i “Py 
i * ‘ ' : ' ‘ mires & 
: git Wp ae! od? teqings golrew wiomant-anr sth Goh sstame oe Fee 
} Ur Gt a) Colew tia 6 walled] or qiteitga> oat ont gafguiid fas oa : 


ES oe tie mse SAO! "273s 


egnatadt rsbler od) _ hota Bite ovisado syetoom aut a iratiogs tt 

gistom Ors inim bos ¢bod ateclqtincgqerins aes bien viggired ce a sdf P 

-ovomi exdinsnog yaiuionsieb-tloe ade Io, enonliadt Wewotted of 

> # PY * G0 AGL S05) Anyg Yo Soya AneIOHE * tape 4 
- | eee 

os <a Y% 
4 a, ' 
mA " . 


, 


i Dag, wehicot ot aqnoied j|[aant) aay sapecpyag 
Bs 7(  Bso8 Notthar lo ebiot mand -tedw.tid ‘riidaanaly to ovale ioe oe ; 
tbe e pAlaL 20 S59 2 Ul St SHOIANOS BLE ES OH hy iano te Wade Jo 7) 
ma worse bi." vileeso sa laslaysic io wend od? of boaliqaros Joo esit. 
ane ry .% ‘yn? ae irae eee 
: opod? otealiat of weiaesigqns sidstivs stents rae vail #99 swe oh 
eeosY yrem ied odd doliiw-lo so viddmodt estiiodetanga sidlaands 

KL Roavesiisnt 10 Sacto 3 Aauts mprsronge BS asr anes 

—S * 


= . : : + “a y ; Fe Sia 


a lawanoe wi Sojectos on atinwaagre tiibod gogs ae sah” 
Shr @ 


’ op al * ¥ 

2 > “Ook weed Joa dad ind tsolent ifeo-ew tater sect adeaiiate a7 

AS hea Sas 2a ma A od), To isoga chm ars aw -Boteyitsevai, 

pzob add torte arazair sdgitd ait 701 .aodt :.eodt oA niet 

Se RAHAT ve ION Ji ersiy Yowor wh. Terai oe 

herEsed letoley lid yo! anaderqenas saoniler ebiny. 
eu? igodiivz 2i. aad Ma-dotin bo): to asiav 6: 
see gS izt x paantice, tora wate te rapbieera 





7 . 
¥ 
, 
* md 
=o = a * 
“ 
« 
[ 
é : 
* + * 





**But I see another law in my members warring against the law of my 
mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin, which is in my 
members.’’—Romans, chap. vii. ver. 23. 


‘*But mind this: the more we observe and study, the wider the range 
of the automatic and instinctive principles in body and mind and morals, 
and the narrower the limits of the self-determining, conscious move- 
ment.’’—Houmszs, Autocrat of Breakfast Table, p. 95. 


‘** As dependent upon bodily organization, as actuated by sensual pro- 
pensities and animal wants [man], belongs to matter, and, in this re- 
spect, he is the slave of necessity. But what man holds of matter does 
not make up his personality. * * * Heis conscious to himself of facul- 
ties not comprised in the chain of physical necessity.’-—Hamitron, 
Metaphysics (BowEn), p. 16. 


—'‘'We can hardly find a more suitable expression to indicate those 
incomprehensible spontaneities themselves, of which the primary facts 
of consciousness are the manifestations, than rational, or intellectual In- 
stincts.’’—Ibid., p. 505. 


** Now it may be that what we call instinct here, has not been sufii- 
ciently investigated. We hear men speak of the higher instincts and of 
rational instincts. Are these, then, for the higher nature what the lower 
instincts are for the lower? As many viewit, What is Conscience but a 
rational instinct, a guide without comprehension, but rational, because 
it reveals itself as the voice of God, which all instinct is, without thus 
revealing itself ?’’—President Hopkins, Moral Science, 1st Ed., p. 244. 


roy f- 
¥) Se e 
© 
ve 
‘ ‘ = 
4 1 
‘ 
: Can 
° 
q 
: . 
» 
1 
7 ; 
‘ 
re 
= ft . 
f 
{ - 
+ 
- 

















ine te | : rr a. ar. ' 
é eon ie Cc. bs lta ea 
od ey ‘ -- ne fr O vy _ J ieG zx 4 hos 4 4 (25) c 
fas ; eA ‘heey i at 


7 Sha wer st 
Laaias> ante aap a eetie! iy $itea sitgur0, aA 


“ate hase criarty 13 aes un ts swotanhg (reba 


, ea +h! s Gaht—ant Tithe f fer’ yovro d= TE Haye » oS 
PA i esol" mid gd esi ests) i srrient Yea eqowite eet } 
y = - acai ites a eee aaa ras 4 je1t7aAe wou 3s 


sabi iti (Gia Ut bee 
Pie we ‘ Sotat cy : SiG FIs PW La aeto ric jsruin Vim Jae 
ee aie is psi suas }— tp oingd> org ck Vo Be 
(es gpl Ol Behe et 12! Mie sho cml ee isa 
eet hat weaf odo! tA bores nS) ies 10% 






















44 
F b pi eives bd yee 
aap ee cent h dua’ a pe é : ‘ eet 
; gta Mi oe 
; Reha ae 
\ at 
€: eee os 
' ik baleen 
e 2 et Fn ars 
s *, oa 
; zy ist FIRS es 
: Wee de Om 4 A * 
lyin MP alasts Beal ik: oA 
‘ we oa." 3 7 
TART yt tha Cone - aK a amt arene 
| G A omy 1 eo via 
bs a ee ony, re YS " a ee 
rhe ; Ie 


1 ane atk ‘Ga ssiiiabil ie fag lt Bos, eit 
rolign tint 255 waite Fo, = ote? fala: 
ets Eealty 34 Ts edna, B14. xg es ok m8 itt | 
exif b 1s sxe serguytls ode bite Aries Sal inraciieon 9 i me 
; “tw anc eivotip ile Hgisgst+ bate. any: oe ASL Sot ‘i! 
Yhetlyat'sott adi to aorenrgeg Teh: rian abciortts? 


sobs 
- papmtayize fag sut{ca- ntslep tu! 3 Me sei: 
q ay 7 
eT anaceleoas a ti 





5 oe - 
‘ i. is? 
ae -e = “ts pus “ 
yt ce oo ” ; me ( 
* Pies =a a 


G: OeNile ES Neos 





LECTURE I. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


PAGB 
Investigations respecting the origin and destiny of man.—The central 
question.—Conditions of human progress.—Importance of man’s animal 
nature.—Comparative psychology.—Power of definitions.—Mistake in 
use of formulas.—Definitions of instinct.—Vital activities to be traced. 
—Apparent work of instinct.—Utilizes structure and function.—Includes 
impulse, knowledge, skill.—Natural history and speculative philosophy. 
—Man the perfection of the vertebrate type.—Organs put to a higher 
use as the nature of the being demands.—Mind and thought.—Diverse 
philosophical views.—Work defined.—Results to be reached.—Topics 

SOFIGISCUSSION Fy ates Scien Simoes oe ect le es cove eens coettreo ese. 17 


LECTURE. IT. 


OPERATIONS IN INORGANIC NATURE AND PLANT LIFE THAT 
SIMULATE INSTINCT. 


Definitions of Paley, Whately, and Hamilton considered.—The office of 
the physical forces.—Life, sensation, volition.—Method of discussion 
explained.—Positivism.—Instinct part of a series of agencies.—Life 

- depending upon the position of the earth and the changes within it.— 
Geologic changes.—Activities of the plant.—Instinct-like provisions of 
plants.—Community of action.—Special provision of the tree for itself. 
—Wise economy of plants.—Movement of plants.--Special structures 
and functions.—Provision made by plants for their young............. 40 


Vill Contents. 


LECTURE. III. 


OPERATIONS IN PHYSIOLOGY SIMULATING INSTINCT; AND THE 
LOWEST FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDI- 
VIDUAL ANIMAL SUPPLEMENTING PHYSIOLOGY OR FUNCTION OF 
ORGANS. 


PAGE 
Intelligent and instinctive acts.—The tent-moth.—Animal physiology.— 
Structure, function, and instinct supplementing each other.—Unity 
from system.—Specific plans.—Servituce of plants.—Life and its phe- 
nomena.—Evolution of the tree.—The animal body a machine.—Its 
evolution from the egg.—Variables giving rise to species.—Alchemists. 
—Evolution of a specific form, the robin.—Growth of the bird requir- 
ing instinctive action.—The first instinctive act.—Selection of food.— 
Relation of life to the physical forces.—Doctrine of evolution,—Higher 
Maritestation Of instinct mm Securing fO0d.;......c. mses cacceccccenesess 67 


LECTURE IV. 


HIGHER FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDI- 
VIDUAL OR THE SPECIES, HAVING NO IMMEDIATE RELATION TO 
STRUCTURE OR FUNCTION OF ORGANS. 


Intelligence guided by experience.—Instinct independent.—A natural 
development.—Building of nests or homes.—Perfection of nest no test 
of the animal’s rank.—The facts of building stated.—Relation of build- 
ing to structure and function.—Variation in building.—Swallows.— 
Thrushes.— Oriole.— Black-birds. — Sparrows. — Nests from different 
localities—Mr. Wallace’s theory.—Difference in building power.— 
Improvement by practice.—The cow-bird.—Supplementary instinct of 
the foster-parent.—Change of instinct compared with change in plants. 93 


LECTURE V. 


SOME MANIFESTATIONS OF HIGHER INSTINCT.—RELATION OF 
INSTINCT TO SPECIAL STRUCTURE AND FUNCTION. 


Relation of the appetites to the instincts.—Perfection of the work no 
proof of intelligence in the actor.—Test of intelligence.—Flexibility of 
instinct,—The ampelopsis.—The bean.—The potato.—The knowledge 
of enemies among fowls.—Common defence.—Simulation of death.— 
Instinct and climatic change.—The muskrat.--The partridge.—Instincts 
learned from observation alone.—Instincts essential.to life-—Origin of 


Contents: 1X 


PAGE 
instinctive powers.—Hibernation.—Difficulties of the natural selection 
theory.—Special structures.—The rattlesnake, bee, wasp, and hornet. 
—Relation of instinct to color and form.—-Cases cited from Wallace.— 
Relation of instinct to experience.—Seventeen-year locusts........ Coom IIE 


LECTURE VI. 


INSTINCT FOR COMMUNITIES OF ANIMALS.—ITS RELATION TO 
THE DOCTRINE OF NATURAL SELECTION. 


Illustrations of the community system.—The cow-bird.—Three kinds 
belonging to the same species.—Necessity for slaves among ants.— 
The brood or annual flock.—Permanent organization.—Leaders.—Sen- 
tinels.—Pelicans of Utah Lake.—The beaver.—Morgan’s work.—The 
rank of the beaver.—The muskrat.—Variation of instinct necessary.— 
Complexity of work no proof of intelligence.—Consideration of theo- 
ries.—Accumulated work of intelligence.—Instinct like it, in effect.— 
The honey-bee.— Bumble-bees and wasps.— Slave-ants.— Darwin’s 
explanation.—Difficulties.—Natural selection and variation not suffi- 
cient.— Wallace on natural selection applied to man............-..0+6- « 137 


LECTURE VII. 


INSTINCT CONNECTED WITH THE PARENTAL RELATION.—AS DE- 
MANDING CERTAIN CHANGES IN OTHER ANIMALS AND PLANTS. 
—AS A LAW FOR THE ANIMAL.—AS SUBJECT TO VARIATION. 


Effect of parental instinct—Completes its course.—Disturbed by domes- 
tication.—Answering instinct of the young.—Correlation of the three 
kingdoms of nature.—Hibernation.—Gall-flies.—_Ichneumon-flies.--Bot~ 
fly.—Tent-moth.—Oak-pruners.—Borer.—Preservation of the fittest.— 
Instinct as a law.—Uniformity among animals.—Periodicity and self- 
regulating power of the appetites.—Instinct can be deceived.—Follows 
the impression of the senses.—Variation of instinct.—Production of 
varieties.—Definition of an instinct, and of instinct as a general term... 157 


LECTURE VIII. 


HIGHER CHARACTER OF ANIMALS.—ANIMALS COMPARED 
WITH MAN, 


Knowledge from experience.—Do animals think ?—Definition of thinking. 
—Conditions of the act to be studied.—Difficulty of the work.—Con- 
dition of the animal.—Physical structure and growth in men and ani- 
mals.—The senses in both.— Physiological likeness——Capacity of 


= Contents. 


PAGE 
animals for pain and enjoyment.—Psychological effects of sensations 
in animals.—Fear, anger, joy, grief, shame.—The desires.—A¢sthetic 
nature of animals.—Animals learn by experience.—Their actions com- 
pared with those of man.—Taming and trapping animals.—Memory of 
animals.—Dreaming.—Summation of the argument.—lInstinct the con- 
trolling power.—The rights of animals........... St Pen ee Seeeetee 187 


LECTURE IX. 


INSTINCT IN MAN GROWING OUT OF HIS APPETITES.—ANIMAL 
IN THEIR ORIGIN. 


Man and animals compared.—Observation and study a necessity for 
man.—The higher ruling principle.-—Free personality.—Complexity of 
man’s nature.—Origin and use of the appetites.—Narrow range of 
animal instinct in the child.—Nursing.—Fear.—Moral instincts.—-Ani- 
mal instincts to be governed.—Marriage.—The desires.—Desire of life, 
of knowledge, of power, of esteem, of society.—Revolutions and 
reformations.—Summiation of activities .......... ic 


DEG DUR aca. 


RELATION OF THE INSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLES OF ACTION TO THE 
RATIONAL AND MORAL NATURE OF MAN. 


Intuiticns and instincts.—Something must be given as a basis for reason- 
ing and for acting.—Agricultural ants.—Belief in the uniformity of 
natural phenomena, from observation.—Instinct acts in reference to 
contingent events.—Purposes for which instinctive principles are 
needed by man.—The desires.—The affections.—Love of society.— 
Knowledge, property, power, esteem.—Faith.—Benevolence.—Need 
of guidance in man —The ruling power.—Conflict between the higher 
and lower instincts.k—The comprehending power.—Difference between 
man and the highest animals.—‘* Ought.’’—Sense of obligation........ - 229 


LECTURE XI. 
THE MORAL INSTINCTS.—OBLIGATION. 


Law of being defined.—Relation of men and animals to this law.—Con- 
ditions under which obligation arises.—Man’s freedom.—Self-denial.— 
Effects of ignorance.—Relation of obligation to the judgment.—Double 
action of obligation.—Doing right because it is right.—Obligation to do 
justly.—Four manifestations of obligation.—Its action compared with 


Contents. Xl 


PAGE 
the instincts.—Its relation to progress.—Moral conflicts.—Choice.— 
Free personality.—Accountability.x—Remorse.—Man compared with . 
an animal.—Moral powers always found in him.—The perfection and 
sphere of the animal.—The sphere of man’s action.................200 256 


LECTURE XII. 


RELIGIOUS INSTINCTS.—SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION. 


Summary of principles.—Their existence denied._May be dormant.— 
Assert their sway.—Knowledge of God.—Instinct of a child.—Natural 
religion.—Revelation.—Instinct of prayer.—Of worship.—Analogous to 
animal instincts.—Individual accountability.—Diagram of powers.— 
Explanation of activities.—Choice of an ultimate end.—Provisions for 
every appetite and desire.—Summary of lectures.—Defects of our edu- 
cation.—Man’s power over the universe.—His relationship to it.—Pre- 
pare the way for progress.—The laborers needed.—Influence of names, 
—Transition period.—Final results of the study and control of all the 
POWEIS ee ec cc endo ctcgedes es tceee Cesta dre Cov emee ede wend ties warae 279 


APPENDIX: cb catcscteca teensex SCOSSHESHESSHEHSHHSHSEHSHSHHHOHHE SS Se eee HOES 305 





















Ne A ' : Bhd or ¥ a 
: bass 7 nt teaayee naltiiw aiow eatniood ozatit: cs 3 
i A Yg-gitern cezoeib tad hotssdhs oven alow tn 1821 
an eSh> VE ot SSCrIZy 2 ne ; oditbastey etiodk ante 
— aghh on i sidiode esw siete adi Yo, : Ee 
«OSG ot Eodeildsg 2OOISGNT ATOR Bes co A 
| ooh sisioetes et a eis 2me! iaeusety alt : 
; ial aes teve Jed Mi .e2e! Algh dtr bole 


TS a te i ; : 
2 ie 2s Ee PU201. ‘Dit sust esn ndizewmbily 





ry tye OTe es a Oe | ei id * “abiow 
7 0} vi, IG 30! rt bh ay 2 + ie 


Aesitosiq: bis’ 22 aces Yoo grin 
desroiith Inzrsyiaw TC b zdiqot fon ts 
briw s20tit lo endiniqo off} oF 3 










> er sie yout ind dosidue yanihe 

a0°D, cae nd ye’ onted a 
- loomed Bas ROT eH nas oe 
no ind toes sel xd ci 
mat Bi gots. seat} mf ‘boca a 
syvse owe et ai pee 
aayat’ fold fae 


‘A, 
Sond 
a 


PREFACE. 





SINCE these Lectures were written several im- 
portant works have appeared that discuss many of 
the points here presented. It is proper to say that 
the outline of the Lectures was sketched in the 
Author’s NATURAL THEOLOGY published in 1867 ; 
and many of the discussions are here abridged _ be- 
cause presented with fulness in that work. In 
some places the discussion has taken the form of 
criticism of other works. This could not be avoid- 
ed without ignoring many scientific and practical 
questions that are now topics of universal interest. 
Great respect is due to the opinions of those who 
have carefully studied any subject, but they are to 
be accepted only when borne out by facts. The 
necessity for independent investigation and thought 
is constantly pressed upon us by the fact that on 
many subjects discussed in these Lectures, the 
most diverse views are held by able men who have 
enjoyed equal advantages for investigation. Every 


14 SEE ace. 


observer and thinker may do something to settle 
these disputed points, but the scantiness of materi- 
als generally at hand and the liability to error in 
the interpretations of facts, should make every la- 
borer cautious in his own work and lenient towards 
the mistakes of others. It is with a deep convic- 
tion of the need of the hearty codperation of the 
cultivators of different fields of science, especially 
of Naturalists and Mental Philosophers, in the full 
study of man, that these Lectures are presented to 
the public. The necessity of investigation in spe- 
cial departments of science is readily conceded. 
But if men must consume all their strength on one 
specialty they should remember that excellence in 
that is no measure of their ability to decide ques- 
tions in other departments. But such excellence 
in a single specialty, however restricted, is too often 
taken by its possessor and by the community asa 
measure of his just authority on every question he 
chooses to decide. Broad culture as a foundation 
for scientific attainments, respect for other sciences 
than our own and intercourse with those who view 
the same subjects from other stand-points than our 
own, are absolutely essential for safe generalizations 
in those complex sciences that relate to animal and 
rational life. 

If these Lectures quicken the interest of any 
in the study of nature or in a more thorough in- 


Preface. 15 


vestigation of their own complex powers, so that 
our relations to the world shall be better under- 
stood, they will subserve the purpose for which 
they were written. 


WILLIAMSTOWN, MASS, 
November 1, 1871. 

























BE on Be Op ae ed 


: a cit. Cr Tt ha 
MF a ® fra mde 1% 
a s s : oe (t= 
a eae 
; we iL ee We 
Y er 
wD ok 4 i ' 4 te 
. ‘ a " ep f, 
ue" | a, 8 ‘ ! ue i : : = 
/ : { 
, ‘ it 1 i *"S . t } 
Ri Aa ‘ b £ : ' 
' - 
. a f : Pay 48 1 nt nate oa 
i Sc _—" be a “s; pt id 
ee ee ke o eae aly a Ve A ns 
: i | Sao! i 
is 64 > emmees ate * -§- ee ee * ? ; F : . 
: : a 
Ls +) al Ms : Y ny f : 
rat > | . 4qUTIE , tiga 
; 3 e y i ; - a 7 : = 
a 7 7 74 . : 
> Stagnpudastar ; 
a ay §% es, s f 
ee) Sess kT —— nae Ye costed’ bin Sgr at phates poate 
i ele . AS. Seat ware: eam AS GI said, *S saophtant}-— AGRE) i 
= ats a NS NSBR agate fuk ‘sesierpinss = SATs, on oun 


gael! % \n aviv Gt aohanyey, Ap sux aut eee . ie 
_. ack OXA Sos WAS, a eae “eh ‘pate res) iw 
Ti sabe 5 = Sardar vtaakaish — ont anit san Steraty ws 

hans boast, ak enh. st wen SV oo lanlninge HAT, RET apenas 
deh of ah) ap baie Mays 3 a mf tats shavdgysd ais ok 0 ay 
ie eat sigan ate kati, apie h ad Yess sis) 
“. = Shaadi " wie Wartit- paint itiduns —-airsien antiviard 


4 7 | b * Ny : race . 
." a ’ — i} = 
A, s 
» 
. 


per veia emt ei he Qua WIDTH. he TAI 
ey 0! to: 2199 aut? To sonstnse weer oil 2 
' agli Ri onivayileb lo sysliving. ould i 
-_. Hite et noxiebsp aiduob, eidT 0g: es 

, 2.) Brod ni gaivig ek s5doin2 - cbhfow: sig 
ig * ).Bnesot tak eifeo gob 3 base 3x, od’ 36a 
As vid 1 ‘dood sal node cid. 1 





Slt gt Hpogeet bosagoms ni ‘ay 1 | 








LINE Se Gh 





PLO h bat. 
INTRODUCTORY. 


Investigations respecting the origin and destiny of man.— The central 
guestion.—Condttions of human progress Importance of Man’s 
animal nature.— Comparative Psychology.— Power of Defini- 
tions —Mistake in use of formulas —Definitions of Instinct.— 
Vital activities to be traced—Apparent work of Instinct.— Util- 
izes structure and function.—Includes impulse, knowledge, skill. 
—Natural History and Speculative Philosophy— Man the per- 
fection of the Vertebrate type-—Organs put toa higher use as the 
nature of the being demands—Mind and thought Diverse phi- 
losophical views.— Works defined —Results to be reached.— Topics 
Jor discussion. 


“ WHAT IS MAN’S ORIGIN AND WHAT IS HIS DES- 
TINY,” is the opening sentence of the course of lec- 
tures which I had the privilege of delivering in this 
place five years ago. This double question is still 
perplexing the world. Science is delving in bone 
caves, and peat bogs and lake deposits for records 
more ancient than historic books. Every split bone 
and fractured flint are interrogated respecting the 
customs of the early tribes of men, whose era upon 


18 Instinct. 


the earth is known only by the geologic accumula- 
tions above their remains,—and whose manner of 
life is revealed only by the remnants of their feasts 
and the instruments of stone buried in the caves 
which their owners once inhabited. Every ancient 
human skull is measured—as to capacity and angles 
—to determine the animal affinities of man. Geol- 
ogy and history, sacred and profane, are scanned as 
never before—as eagerly as though the continued 
existence of the race depended upon the evidence 
which these records can give of the manner in which 
man came upon the earth and of the time when he 
came. Even those who profess to believe that it 
makes no difference to man how he came to be what 
he is, seem to have almost a mania for claiming 
bone caves as their ancestral mansions, and have lit- 
tle respect for the scientific attainments of any one 
who will not concede that the ancestors of all men 
were apes or gorillas. 

Others as busy and eager quite, are peering into 
the future to learn what the race is yet to become. 
They sum up the advances made by man within the 
historic period, and especially within the last centu- 
ry, and then inquire, “ What will the powers and 
opportunities of man do for him when he has num- 
bered as many more centuries upon the earth as he 
has already numbered?” 

Many generations must pass away before there 
can be any essential agreement among men who 
seek either for the origin or the destiny of man from 
the light of science. And so far as we can see, the 
past history and the future prospects of the race, if 


Introductory 19 


we are to depend upon science alone to reveal them, 
must always be like the bridge in MIRZA’S vision 
that had dark clouds resting upon either end. 
More and more of the span of the bridge may come 
into view to those who gaze upon it from the hill 
of science, but the abutments that mark the begin- 
ning of the human race, and its remotest future, 
will be in clouds and darkness still. 

But there is a central question that relates to 
the present. WHAT IS MAN? If this question 
could be fairly answered, his origin and destiny 
would be in a measure deducible from the answer ; 
or if it should throw no clearer light upon the past, 
it would reveal the goal towards which man must 
move, or the road along which his future course 
must lie in pressing towards that goal. 

Amid all the din and clamor of science, which 
claims to give both the light and guidance which 
man needs as well as every other means of human 
progress, we wish to know what the HUMAN is,— 
what it has in common with the world below it,— 
what it has in its own right as its peculiar posses- 
sion,— what there is in man to be ruled,—what 
there is in him having power to rule. 

Again then we come to the task of analyzing 
human nature regardless of the sneers of those prac- 
tical philosophers who talk of “the folly and heavy 
guessing of Metaphysics,” grouping, as they gener- 
ally do for their convenience, under this much 
abused term, all those studies that relate to the 
higher nature of man. 

If we would improve man, we must know what 


20 Instinct. 


he is,—what powers he possesses and the law of 
their development. If he is a being of physical or- 
ganization alone, let us understand that; and then 
give our whole strength to the study of physiology. 
If he has powers that are independent of the exist- 
ence of this physical organization, something added 
to it, letus understand that. In fine, let us try to 
understand every power that man possesses, its use 
and the condition of its best activity. 

Those who would reap most benefit from the 
laws of nature must learn what those laws are, and 
the methods by which variable combinations can 
work out new results, through invariable laws. The 
wise engineer while apparently contending against 
nature, always works with her and succeeds just in 
proportion as he obeys her laws. The wise philan- 
thropist, or social scientist, will succeed in amelior- 
ating the evils of society,—will elevate the race and 
secure its permanent progress, just in proportion 
as he understands the laws of human life, from its 
lowest manifestations to its highest, and labors to 
correct its mistakes by working in accordance with 
its own laws. 

The laws of human life and its conditions of 
progress are as fixed as the laws of gravitation and 
cohesion. The errors and ruin of life arise from 
the power of man as a free agent to trangress those 
laws. It is in the sphere of the variable, where free 
personality through ignorance or perverseness, fails 
to supply the proper conditions of progress that we 
find the troubles of society; as in a fine piece of 
machinery, we find ruin when an ignorant engineer 


L[ntroductory. 21 


so arranges the parts that the power which should 
form the thread and web, rends and destroys the 
nice adjustments of the machine itself. If a ma- 
chine is to do its full measure of work, its parts 
must so move that as little power as possible shall 
be lost in operating the machine itself, and its rela- 
tion to the work it is to perform must be as direct 
and as accurate as it is possible tomake them. To 
reach this result somebody must understand the 
machine. The same is true in regard toman. He 
is a machine of the most complex nature and he is 
also the engineer. Of all the exhibitions of igno- 
rance in the world, the most common and the most 
disastrous in its consequences, is the ignorance of 
men of the right use of their own powers and of 
their relations to the work which it naturally falls 
to their lot to accomplish. 


We recognize man first as an animal. What- 
ever higher powers may dwell in the body of man 
that body is animal in its orgin, life and death. 
The higher nature of man has for ages found dili- 
gent students. And the body has revealed to sci- 
ence both the structure and function of its organs so 
fully that almost every tissue and vital movement 
are known. The welfare of the body is now gener- 
ally acknowledged to be a condition of mental pow- 
er. But the animal life and animal nature have 
been too often ignored or undervalued in the study 
of man’s higher nature. It has been deemed by 
some an insult to man to give him the instincts of 
the animal as the basis of his higher life or to as- 


22 Instinct. 


sien them any high rank as instruments of human 
progress. And those who believe in the creation of 
man by a personal God have been slow to believe 
that He who took the bow in the clouds existing 
from the creation, as the appointed symbol of his 
promise to the race, has also taken animal powers 
in man and put them to a higher and nobler use 
than in any of the tribes below him. They need to 
study the great plan of God’s economy in creation 
to learn that in-each new form of life, nothing new 
is introduced until the possibilities of the old forms 
have been exhausted. The hand of man is no less 
wonderful or noble because it is foreshadowed in 
the fin of the fossil fish of the Silurian age. 

As in the body of man we find the same sort of 
organs as in the lower tribes but fashioned for a 
higher use than such animals can need, so in his 
supersensual nature, we find the animal powers 
ministering to a higher life than those tribes ever 
possess. If there is a Comparative Anatomy there 
is also a Comparative Psychology. It is oniy when 
the comparison between men and animals is ex- 
haustively made that we can reach that which is 
distinctive of man. If we can find nothing distinc- 
tive, then must we acknowledge him to be an ani- 
mal in kind differing from the others only in degree. 
If we would escape from this admission, we must 
begin by granting to his animal nature all that be- 
longs to it. When this is fairly done, what re- 
mains we may claim as distinctively human, with 
some hope of making good our claim. 

In selecting INSTINCT as the subject of the pres- 


Introductory. 23 


ent course of lectures, we take that which has been 
considered peculiarly the characteristic of the ani-_ 
mal; but our work will all be in the service of man. 
We shall inquire into the nature of instinct, that 
we may trace with more clearness the operation 
of instinctive principles in our own constitution, and 
be able to give them their due consideration in all 
our schemes of education and social reform. 

We meet a formidable difficulty at the very out- 
set in the common forms of speech and in the sci- 
entific definitions of Instinct and Reason. A wri- 
ter should use language in its common meaning if © 
he can, and if he needs new words or new shades 
of meaning for old ones, he ought to explain his in- 
novations fully and be consistent in the use of his 
new terms. But the best intentions and greatest 
care will seldom secure a writer from real inconsist- 
ency in the use of terms or from such a use of them 
that his meaning may not in some.cases be misun- 
derstood, even by careful readers. When words 
and phrases have had a fixed meaning with us, it is 
difficult to constantly give a different meaning to 
them. There is much error in the world that passes 
current, because it comes to us in well-worn formu- 
las of speech, as counterfeit money passes among 
common people more readily when it has become 
soiled by the fingers of the hundreds it has deceived, 
than when it comes fresh from the printing-press. 
The very dirt and rents.are marks of many judg- 
ments in its favor, and none but an expert would 
pronounce against the many endorsements of gen- 
uineness which it bears. It is to our mental gear 


24 Instinct. 


not to say our moral convictions, like the shock of 
the suddenly stopping car to the body, for some 
bold innovator to demolish as baseless or false,some 
favorite definition—some good old form of speech 
in which our thoughts had run as in the track of 
truth. 

But this power of language has its use. When 
truth has taken a particular formula of words for 
its expression, the formula alone will often answer 
our purpose ; and we can use it, as does the mathe- 
matician his algebraic formulas, without the trouble 
of verifying them in every operation. It be- 
comes one then who enters upon any investigation 
or discussion for the sake of truth, to guard himself 
at every step, lest he be misled by old formulas or 
by taking advantage of accepted formulas, cover 
error with them, deceiving himself and perchance 
those whom he attempts to instruct. If his object 
is simply to carry a point, the more he can bring 
his new doctrines under old forms of speech and 
his errors into the formulas that. custom has stamp- 
ed with the sanction of truth, the better will he 
succeed. 

There is at the present time much controversy 
in the scientific world not only because men seem 
determined to confine the Baconian philosophy to 
matter alone, but because they insist upon using 
the same formulas for very different elements in 
the great circle of truth. The sine of ninety de- 
grees is equal to radius, but the tangent of ninety 
degrees is infinite, and any mathematician who af- 
firms that they are equal simply because they are 


Introductory. 25 


related to the same sector of a circle, or tries to use 
the formula of one for that of the other, will waste 
his own labors and mislead all who trust in him. 
There is one part of the quadrant in which the 
tangent equals the sine of ninety degrees, and the 
formula of one might be used for that of the other 
without essential error. But after passing that 
point they differ more and more in value, until at 
another part of the quadrant no number is suffi- 
ciently great to express the difference between 
them. The change in the comparative value of 
these two elements is analogous to the divergence 
between the different elements in man’s nature, 
that may, under certain conditions, be expressed by 
the same formulas, but which demand for their 
full treatment modes of thought and formulas of 
language widely different from each other. 


As I propose to lecture on Instinct it might fair- 
ly be claimed that I should define the word at the 
, outset. If I were to do so, few of my audience 
would agree with me fully. We should not agree 
where Instinct begins to control action nor where it 
gives place to another guide. Its nature and office 
would both be subjects of controversy. Were I to 
copy the best definitions ever written there is not 
one of them that some of us would not consider de- 
fective in some respects. It would either take for 
eranted what we should not accept or it would deny 
directly or by implication what we are ready to as- 
sume as true. But we may be guided by these def- 
initions, provisionally, treating them like bills before 


a 
Cd 


26 Instinct. 


our Legislature, which may be altered or amended 
even to the “striking out of all but the enacting 
clause,” and substituting entirely different bills in 
their place. 

According to Paley, “ Justiuct 7s a propensity 
prior to experience and independent of instruction.” 

Whately says, ‘ Justinct 1s a blind tendency to 
some mode of action, independent of any consideration 
on the part of the agent, of the end to which the ac- 
tion leads.” 

Hamilton gives this definition, ‘“ Juzstinct 7s an 
agent which performs blindly and zgnorantly a work 
of intelligence and knowledge.” 

Either of these definitions will serve a good pur- 
pose in guiding us in our investigation. We ac- 
cept neither of them as complete. We shall make 
no attempt to define Instinct till the close of these 
lectures. And then probably instead of attempting 
a single, simple definition, as might be given of a 
single force or mathematical figure, we shall have to 
content ourselves with an enumeration of impulses 
and methods of action that are called instinctive, 
because they come neither from experience nor in- 
struction. 

We must assume that there is in the world 
something which we may call matter, force, vitality, 
sensation, voluntary action, Instinct and Reason. 
We will make no attempt now to draw the dividing 
line between them nor to determine how far one of 
them can be resolved into another. These may all 
be regarded, by some, as different manifestations of 
the same thing; but good usage of language de- 


Introductory. 27. 


mands of us, or at least allows us, to use these 
words as the names of distinct things and as terms 
so well understood as to need no special explana- 
tion, as they are used in this discussion. Their 
meaning, as generally understood, is sufficiently 
precise for our present purpose. 

As it would be agreed by all that Instinct lies 
somewhere in the field of vitality, we shall trace 
that in all its manifestation, that we may find just: 
what activities there are in the plant, in the animal, 
and inman. Throwing aside, if possible, our pre- 
conceived notions of the difference between them, 
we will inquire What they are? What they do? 
And before our work is done, we may be able to see 
whether there are distinct planes of being,—planes 
differing in kind,—or whether all manifestations of 
vitality merely differ in degree ;—whether Instinct 
is something by itself as a distinct principle, or is a 
mere summation of powers acting in a specific 
method ;—whether it is simply an extension of phys- 
iological function on the one hand, or the nebulous 
form.of intellect and reason on the other. 

The apparent work of Instinct, or the operation 
of the instinctive principles of action, is to fit the 
animal to the world; to enable him to battle for 
existence, to hold his place in spite of opposing 
forces and enemies,—in fact, to make the forces and 
products of nature his servants so far as they are 
needful for his perfection. It secures this by put- 
ting him at once, by a spontaneous manifestation 
of impulse, knowledge and skill, into the needful re- 
lations to those objects in nature that are necessa- 


28 Instinct. 


ry for his individual welfare or that of the species. 
It does this in many cases with almost the certain- 
ty of the operations of the laws of inorganic nature. 
Not more surely does the stone thrown into the 
air come to the ground, or water seek a level, than 
the bird knows its time for nesting and the materi- 
al and fashion which mark the work of the species. 
And when Instinct varies or is deceived, as some- 
times happens, it is done according to some law of 
the creature’s being, by the introduction of some 
new condition; as the stone returning to the earth 
may be turned from the curve which gravitation 
alone would give it, by the current of wind. 

Instinct begins its work by utilizing structure 
and function of organs. Has the bird a gland for 
the secretion of oil? She knows instinctively how 
to press the oil from the gland and apply it to the 
feather. Has the rattlesnake the grooved tooth and 
eland of poison? He knows without instruction 
how to make both structure and function most ef- 
fective against his enemies. Has the silk-worm the 
function of secreting the fluid silk? At the proper 
time, she winds the cocoon such as she has never 
seen, as thousands before have done; and thus 
without instruction, pattern or experience, forms a 
safe abode for herself in the period of transforma- 
tion. Has the hawk talons? She knows by in- 
stinct how to wield them effectively against the 
helpless quarry. 

But it is not structure and fraceinn alone that 
call instinct into play. There are certain manifes- 
tations of Instinct that are marvellous—manifesta- 


L[ntroductory. 29 


tions that never could have been suggested to us 
by the study of the structure or function of organs. 
It is a function of the salmon as of the codfish to 
bring forth eggs. But why does not the salmon 
deposit her eggs in the salt waters where she loves 
to swim? While the codfish finds her breeding 
place in the ocean, the salmon leaves the ocean and 
seeks the clear cold waters of the fresh streams as 
the place for depositing her eggs. She selects the 
best place in the stream, and after covering her 
eggs with gravel she leaves them to the care of the 
elements. She has done the best in her power for 
them and in all this work we say she is guided by 
Instinct. But in due time by the same sort of spon- 
taneous impulse and knowledge or guidance, her 
young find the pathway to the ocean feeding 
grounds without the parent’s aid. These are fair 
examples of instinctive action, or of spontaneous 
impulse, knowledge and skill, which are generally 
spoken of as the operations of some distinct princi- 
ple in the animal. 


The zmpulse, that arises in every one of the spe- 
cies at a given season of the year, or at a given pe- 
riod of its own development, to do the same 
thing—the apparent kuowledge by which acts are per- 
formed to meet coming emergencies, the like of 
which the animals have never witnessed—the skz// 
in working that comes without instruction or expe- 
rience—all these are inscrutible. So much of all 
of these, as is needful for the preservation of each 
species, it seems to have as an original outfit, and 


30 Instinct. 


that is all we can at present say. For convenience, 
we call this summation of spontaneous powers that 
extend beyond physiological functions, INSTINCT. 
This Instinct we find utilizing both structure and 
function. And we also see it making a broader 
manifestation controlling the whole being, as when 
the fowl hides from the bird of prey now seen for 
the first time, and the migratory birds and fishes 
know their appointed seasons. 

In the manifestation of Instinct in the relation of 
the sexes—in the provision made by the parent in- 
sect for its young which it will never see—in the 
skill with which every organ is put to its specific 
use, with thé same celerity and accuracy by ani- 
mals of the same species from age to age, we find 
some of the most interesting fields of speculation. 
It is here that Natural History and Speculative 
Philosophy meet,—where they ought not to meet 
as opponents,—because if they do, one of them 
must be in the wrong,—but as allies in the search 
for truth, in unfolding the plan of creation, in set- 
ting forth its final causes and the varied relations of 
its parts. 

- But if Natural History and Speculative Philos- 
ophy are to meet‘on common ground and join as 
helpers in a common work, each should understand 
the other and not despise the materials nor the 
processes which the other is compelled touse. As 
to their materials, the two departments of science 
differ greatly. And in the clearness and precision 
of its processes, Natural History can certainly claim 
wonderful advances within a short time. This gives 


Introductory. } 31 


it the tendency to claim superiority and to chal- 
lenge comparison. It is sure to come off victor,be- 
fore those guided by the senses alone. For while 
great success has been achieved in providing mate- 
rials for cabinets and in all fields of labor where the 
senses are the chief agencies employed, the whole 
supersensual world seems to be in a deplorable 
state of confusion to all,except to those philosophic 
minds who have the power to observe order in the 
midst of seeming chaos, and have also power to con- 
struct wholes from loose and disjointed fragments. 
The observers of the supersensual are comparatively 
few, and they are seldom young men; for the natu- 
ral field of labor of the young lies chiefly in the re- 
gion of sensible objects. There is therefore, in 
general, less enthusiasm and display among the stu- 
dents of mind and morals than among Botanists 
and Zoologists. There isin the study of the su- 
persensual no method applicable for increasing the 
natural power of observation with such appliances 
as are always at hand for physical research and 
which so impress the multitude. Each observer is 
confined mainly to himself for his facts. The pe- 
riod of childhood he can explore only by the dim 
light of memory and by inference. In the whole 
realm of animated nature below him he now is, and 
must ever remain, entirely ignorant of sensation 
and will, except as he infers their nature from the 
study of himself and the comparison of himself with 
the lower orders of creation. 

This comparison of the supersensual in animals 
and man should be more thorough than any that 


32 Instinct. 


has yet been made and its results should be honest- 
ly accepted. 


The comparison of man’s anatomical structure 
with that of the lower orders of animals, has been 
most perfect and satisfactory. The whole verte- 
brate series is bound together with such homolo- 
gies of structure that no casual observer even, can 
fail to recognize the unity of plan. A careful ex- 
amination of the structure of man reveals not a sin- 
gle essential bone or organ that is not found in the 
lower members of the vertebrate group. If we take 
man as the perfection of the vertebrate type, then 
it is proper to say that every essential organ in the 
structure of the vertebrate animals is simply a mod- 
ification of some organ found in man, either in his 
mature or early state. This comparison has been 
made so many times that the results are accepted 
as those products of science which no man of com- 
mon intelligence is expected to deny. If there is 
doubt on any point, the materials are abundant for 
re-examination of the subject. Every bone, tissue 
and organ in the human body can be compared with 
the corresponding part in each one of the distinct 
vertebrate types within a year, by hundreds of men 
in different parts of the world. A new animal dis- 
covered can be compared with those already known 
and the modification of every organ be noted. 
This correspondence of bone and muscle seems to 
say that Creative Power seeks simplicity through 
unity of plan. We makes a hand, a foot, a wing or 
fin by the modification of the same organ, or more 


L[ntroductory. ae 


strictly upon one type. So fixed is this rule that 
if some vertebrate, such as had never before been 
seen, were to be now discovered, we should feel 
sure that its organs of locomotion, whether for run- 
ning, flying or swimming, would be found to be 
fashioned on the type of the human foot and hand. 
But as regards the supersensual part in man com- 
pared with that in the lower animals, we find among 
the ablest students the most diverse opinions— 
some affirming that there is nothing in man not 
found in the lower animals,that a dog even, has 
more moral nature than some men: and others of 
our able philosophers denying to man even the 
faintest manifestation of those instinctive principles 
of action that appear in the brutes. By some the 
brain is regarded simply as the organ of the mind, 
which as an incorporeal existence makes the brain 
its servant, as the engineer controls the engine, 
which may be broken, defective and even destroyed, 
while the engineer remains with all his capacities 
‘perfect. According to others, mind and thought 
if any distinction is made between them, are both 
the offspring of the brain—the result of the forma- 
tion and decomposition of brain cells, the manifes- 
tation of forces evolved by a sort of higher chemi- 
cal action, as heat is evolved by the union of coal 
and oxygen or the electrical current is set in motion 
by a certain interaction of metals and acids. 

While among those who have studied man most 
carefully there is an essential agreement as to the 
facts of consciousness, in the metaphysical conclu- 
sions as to the nature of being, of mind and the 

a* 


34 Instinct. 


mental processes there is the widest diversity. 
Nor are these speculations unimportant. They lie 
at the foundation of systems of education and mor- 
als. They influence us in training the young, and 
in our estimate of life; and they consequently shape 
the most important acts of our life. They will con- 
tinue to influence the world in all its great move- 
ments of moral and social reform. 


In a field where the thinkers are so divided, and 
where nothing but careful and long-continued ob- 
servation, accurate analysis and cautious generali- 
zations will avail, we cannot too soon begin the 
work nor prosecute it too zealously. If we are to 
reach correct results, we must here pursue the true 
scientific method of gathering facts and of fearlessly 
following the conclusion, which those facts warrants 
wherever they may lead. 

It is generally conceded, if we judge from the 
language used by authors, that there is found in 
the animal kingdom, if we include man, J/zstznct, 
Intelligence and Reason. But when we ask, Are 
these distinct in kind or do they differ only in de- 
gree? Are brutes possessed of instinct alone? Has 
man instinct? What acts are instinctive and what 
are rational? The answers that come to us show 
that the best thinkers can seldom agree. In the 
majority of cases they differ not only in their state- 
ments, but when those statements are stripped of 
all possible ambiguity, it is found that there is a 
rea] difference in belief. 

It is in vain for us to attempt to bring order out 


Introductory. 35 


of this chaos by definitions or by any mere accura- 
cy of statement. Accuracy in language is impossi- 
ble while the thought is confused. And defini- 
tions, if they do not correspond to the thing de- 
fined, are a constant source of mischief. The mind, 
satisfied with its definition, accepts that, and too of- 
ten ignores the facts that ought to correct the defi- 
nition, or misinterprets them to bring them into 
unison with some favorite system or theory. 

Is it possible then to treat of Instinct without 
being misled by the word ?—without being bound 
by some old definition that shall threaten us with 
destruction when we pass its limits, as the soldier is 
liable to be shot when he passes beyond the dead- 
line of his prison grounds? We will make the 
attempt. If we use any definition of Instinct, we 
will do it only for convenience, as we have inti- 
mated, holding ourselves free to search for facts 
and to give them an honest interpretation, even 
if they force upon us a new definition at every lec- 
ture. 
Guizot has well remarked, when defining the 
word civilization, that it is the popular meaning of 
this word that we must investigate ; and then adds, 
that the common meaning of a word is much more 
correct than the scientific meaning which has been 
given by a few persons under the influence of a par- 
ticular fact that has taken possession of the imagi- 
nation. The same is true, undoubtedly, of the word 
INSTINCT. It is the popular use of the word that 
must for the present serve our purpose as a name 
for certain phenomena as a whole, but it is Instinct 


30 Instinct. 


as a fact, as revealed by these phenomena, that we 
must investigate. 

It is our work then to inquire what animals do 
as sentient beings, as voluntary beings, as manifest- 
ing sensation, choice, volition, contrivance and mem- 
ory,—to inquire how far an animal ever improves 
by experience,—in a word, to inquire what are the 
kinds of acts that animals perform and what are 
the conditions under which they perform them. 
Then we are to inquire what kinds of acts man per- 
forms and the conditions under which he performs 
them. When these two series of observations are 
placed side by side and a comparison is made be- 
tween them, we shall have the best conditions pos- 
sible for deciding what are the characteristics com- 
mon to both man and the lower animals, and the 
means of detecting any power or faculty which 
either possesses as his peculiar distinction. From 
such an examination much might be hoped for, in 
rendering the lower animals more subservient to 
us and in securing to them proper usage; but its 
special use will be to give us a fuller knowledge of 
our own capacities and powers than could ever be 
learned from consciousness, or any study of man 
alone. 

No attempt will be made to gather the wonders 
of Instinct, many of the accounts of which were in- 
vented or embellished for entertaining story-books ; 
but the best known examples of instinctive action 
will be taken, such as can in most cases: be easily 
observed in any part of the world, simply to show 
what Instinct is in its varied manifestations,—as a 


L[ntroductory. 37 


foundation for the comparison which we wish to in- 
stitute between man and the lower animals. 7 

If we mistake not, we shall find Instinct to be 
one of the great provisions which make the present 
condition of the world possible—an absolute neces- 
sity in animal life. It is one method of carrying 
out a plan, or if one objects to this phrase, it is one 
part of a great system which we find in operation 
around us. ‘This system is a unity in its operations 
—so far a unity that we detect the same method 
in all its parts—in parts even the most remote. 
That we may see the relation of instinctive acts to 
other operations in nature and the use of Instinct 
itself, we shall trace the analogies of Instinct when- 
ever we can find them. Our scheme then will em- 
brace the consideration of the following topics,— 

1. The operations in inorganic nature foreshad- 
owing Instinct. 

2. The operations in plant life simulating In- 
stinct. 

3. The operations in animal Physiology simulating 
Instinct. 

4. Lowest forms of Instinct for the welfare of the 
individual, supplementing physiology or function of 
organs. | 

5. The higher forms of Instinct for the welfare 
of the individual animal ; as knowing its enentes with- 
out experience. 

6. The relation of Instinct to special structure. 

7. Instinct as necessary for communities of ant- 
mals. 

8. Development of Instinct by parental relation 


38 Instinct. 


prompting the parent to provide for or to defend its 
young. 

9. Instincts of young animals to bring them into 
proper relations to their parents and the world. Also 
the peculiar instinct of one stage of being as prepara- 
tory to another in which that instinct 2s entirely lost, 
—as in the case of many insects. 

10. Lustinct of animals demanding certain changes 
zn other animals or plants for the completion of tts 
work. 

11. Variation of instinct 1n domestic animals and 
ats relation to man as making such animals useful. 

12. Instinct asa law for the animal but subject 
to organic or functional changes in the system. Cir- 
cumstances under which instinct may be deceived. 

13. Higher character of animals. Do they think 
and reason? Ffave they intelligence as a guiding 
principle or subordinated to Instinct ? 

14. l[ustinct in man growing out of his appetites 
—wholly animal. 

15. lustinct in tts relation to the. destres,—the ba- 
sis of the social nature. 

16. The nature of instinctive and tntuttive 
knowledge. 

17. Moral instincts. The distinction between 
wen and animals and the directing power in both. 

18. Relation of instinct to prayer, faith and im- 
mortality. 

19. Relation of the subject to education, govern- 
ment and social reform. 

While this scheme gives the outline of thought 
to be presented it does not in all cases show the 


Introductory. 39 


exact order in which the topics will be discussed. 
As the same phenomena appear in different depart- 
ments of nature the same topics will appear in the . 
discussion whenever the subject in hand aids in 
their illustration or needs them for its own. In 
such a field there is scope for the most thorough 
research and analysis. If we can but call more 
careful attention to these departments of study we 
may hope for much advantage to speculative sci- 
ence and practical life. 


LEIDER Bie Oye OL 


OPERATIONS IN INORGANIC NATURE AND PLANT 
LIFE THAT SIMULATE INSTINCT. 


Definitions of Paley, Whately and Hamilton considered —The office 
of the Physical Forces —Life, Sensation, Volition.— Method of 
discussion explained.— Positivismt.—lnstinct part of a series of 
agencies.—Life depending upon the position of the earth and the 
changes within it—Geologic changes—Activities of the plant.— 
Lustinct-like provisions of plants —Community of action.— Special 
provision of the tree for ttself— Special structures and functions.— 
Provision made by plants for their young. 


IN our last lecture we gave three definitions of In- 
stinct from writers of acknowledged authority,— 
Paley, Whately and Hamilton. 

Definitions might be multiplied, but those are as 
well fitted as any, for provisional use. Let us see 
exactly what they affirm. Paley says there is a 
propensity prior to experience and independent of in- 
struction. From this we infer, that the propensity 
is to do something which might by some beings be 
learned from experience or that might be learned 
by them from another, by instruction. But we are 
not told whether the being that acts instinctively 


Whately’s Definition. AI 


has any power of gaining knowledge by experience 
or from instruction, or whether it has any compre- 
hension of the work which it performs. In fact the 
definition, instead of settling any thing, is simply 
a dogmatic assertion from which questions branch 
off in all directions. And many of our best natu- 
ralists would begin by denying the assertion alto- 
gether. 

Whately says, Justinct is a tendency to some 
mode of action, and since he says it is a blind ten- 
dency—we suppose he argues that the tendency 
comes without experience or instruction. But he 
adds this important element to Paley’s definition, 
that this tendency ts independent of any consideration 
on the part of the agent of the end to which the action 
leads. Here then we have another very sweeping 
assertion, for it puts every instinctive act on a level 
with the movement of water under the influence of 
gravitation, or the movement of particles in the 
process of crystallization. This assertion is not 
made of certain instinctive acts but of all. Accord- 
ing to this, whenever we decide that any act is in- 
_stinctive, we must also decide that the animal per- 
forming it has no consideration of the end to which 
the action leads, however complex the action or 
wonderful the end secured. 

This definition standing by itself without expla- 
nations would give rise to as much controversy as 
that of Paley; for after two men had agreed to ac- 
cept it they still might be very far from agreeing 
whether a specific act was instinctive ornot. After 
agreeing upon the definition, perhaps the first ob- 


A2 Instinct. 


ject seen would be a flock of birds migrating north. 
One might affirm migration to be with birds an in- 
stinctive act, and therefore that the birds had no 
consideration of the object of their long journey, 
while the other might believe that they went under 
the leadership of old birds that had learned, by the 
slowly accumulated experience of the species, where 
the best breeding places were to be found and there- 
fore that the act of migrating is removed from the 
sphere of Instinct to that of Intelligence. 

But both of these authors agree in this, that In- 
stinct is simply a zendency. They do not speak of 
it as an existence, an entity, but as something like 
a habit though not gained by the individual by re- 
peated acts, as habits are. It may be well in pass- 
ing to say that there are able thinkers who regard 
instinct as nothing more than the fixed habits of 
the species, accumulated and transmitted after be- 
coming fixed by long continuance. 

When we consider Hamilton’s definition we have 
a new element still. He says Instinct is an agent. 
If we understand this language at all,it implies that 
Instinct is an entity, something as distinct in exist- 
ence as an element or as Reason, to say the least. 
And we are inclined to think that this is the com- 
mon notion. We have frequent attempts made to 
draw the dividing line between Instinct and Rea- 
son, which implies that by such writers one is con- 
sidered as much a distinct agent or agency as the 
other. Both terms however are often used in a 
very indefinite manner. But Hamilton adds that 
this agent, Instinct, performs blindly and ignorantly 


Flamulton’s Definition. 43 


a work of intelligence and knowledge. Here we have 
again the assertion of entire ignorance on the part 
of the actor of the end in view in every instinctive 
act; but that the work is still one of intelligence 
and knowledge. We suppose this simply means 
that the work performed instinctively, that is, with- 
out a comprehension, by the actor, of the end aimed 
at, is such as would commend itself to the judg- 
ment of an intelligent and wise being as man may 
become by experience and by instruction from the 
experience of others. We must here anticipate our 
discussion by saying that we believe there are such 
acts, and that they have their place of necessity in 
the great system of means by which organic beings 
are kept on this globe. 

If we commence with gravitation, the lowest 
and most far-reaching of all the forces that modify 
and control this universe, we can pass on througha 
series of agencies till we reach man, who has power 
of self-control and is able to comprehend the mech- 
anism of the universe. And when he, through this 
power of comprehension, surveys all these agencies 
below him in their relation to each other, he finds 
each one of them doing, in its own sphere, just what 
Hamilton asserts to be the work of Instinct. That 
is, in their relations to other agencies, they are do- 
ing just what a wise being would approve of, be- 
cause, by the combined action of all, results are 
reached that commend themselves to Reason. 

It is gravitation that gives form to the globe, 
holds it in place and moves it as a part of a system 
of worlds around the Sun. Cohesion cements the 


44 Instinct. 


elements together, gathers the minerals into veins, 
holds the continents in place, the mountains on 
their rocky thrones, and by its varying strength 
gives the different forms of matter upon the globe. 
Chemical affinity, with a magician’s power, joins dif- 
ferent elements to produce unnumbered products, 
and prepare the way for life. Life itself, known 
only in the development of some germ, answers to 
the call of the forces below it, and then in turn 
makes them its servants, till sensation is introduced. 
From sensation we have a whole train of reflex ac- 
tions and the craving of the appetites that tend to 
preserve the organism but are involuntary in their 
action. Then one step higher we have acts which 
arise from spontaneous impulse, that are always de- 
pendent upon volition, and involve skill and adapta- 
tion of means to ends, but are apparently performed 
without any comprehension of the end, by the 
actor. One step higher still we have acts that 
originate from some spontaneous impulse but are 
plainly modified by some consideration of the end 
or some comprehension of the results. All of these 
classes of acts man can see below him. And these 
three classes of acts have been strangely mingled 
together in treating of Instinct. It is not strange 
therefore that there have been disagreement and 
confusion. 

Most authors have started with some definition 
of Instinct like those given, and then have joined 
with it the assertion that the lower animals have 
no Intelligence. It is no wonder that they have 
found difficulty in drawing the dividing line be- 


The Earth. 45 


tween instinctive and rational acts, even using the 
word rational in its lowest sense. 

All the agencies from gravitation to Instinct, as 
thus far defined, are parts of one plan, and they all 
do the work of Intelligence as much as Instinct it- 
self; that is, a work that in the end is approved by 
man—the highest Intelligence on the globe. 

That we may see that Instinct is nothing pecu- 
liar as to its method of action, we shall briefly trace 
the action of the agencies below it that are condi- 
tional for its work. And we therefore invite your 
attention to a brief examination of the first two 
topics of the program presented at the close of our 
last lecture. 

The operations in inorganic nature and plant life 
that stmulate Instinct. 

It was the notion of some formerly that the 
earth was a living thing. The balmy breezes and 
the storms, the ceaseless tides that mark the chang- 
ing level of the oceans, and the earthquakes rending 
the solid ground, were all the living movements of 
this huge Behemoth, the earth. This poetic notion 
has no place in the prosaic, scientific beliefs of the 
present day; though there was such a semblance 
of truth as its foundation, that much of its lan- 
guage and something of its impression still remains 
even with the most cultivated. In figurative lan- 
guage we speak of the earth as our mother, and 
there is significance in the language as we come 
from her bosom, enjoy the boundless provision 
which she has made for our wants, and then are 
gathered to her peaceful rest. But it is only in po- 


46 ™nstinct. 


etic language and by that power of association that 
makes a tree, a brook or the old farm-house dear to 
usasa friend, that we can speak of the earth as other 
than aclod. Through all this mechanism and the 
forces by which man is formed of the dust of the 
earth and his wants provided for, we may recognize 
the power, wisdom and skill of a Personal Being. 
We may do the same in the manifestations of ac- 
knowledged Instinct in animals and the affections in 
man ; since they all form parts of a system and of such 
a system as the wisdom of man approves of— 
such as he cannot refer to chance nor to this clod 
of earth, with all its elements and forces. But all 
such questions as to chance, design, personality and 
its attributes manifested through the works of na- 
ture, belong to Natural Theology, with which we 
have nothing now to do. 

For our present discussion we inquire simply for 
manifestations; and we do not propose to trace 
those manifestations farther than to the agent or 
being in which they appear. Our first question in 
every case will be, What zs? not, How came it so ? 
How is the earth, the plant, the animal and man 
constituted? Not, How came they to be so con- 
stituted ? 

For the purposes of our present inquiry we may 
believe that all things began to exist a century ago, 
or that they have existed for an indefinite cycle of 
ages. Questions of origin are proper subjects of 
investigation, but they have only an incidental bear- 
ing upon our present discussion. Such questions 
may arise in the progress of our investigations, but 


Positive Philosophy. 47 


we shall not seek for them nor feel bound to attempt 
their answer. 

Shall we then free ourselves of all preconceived 
notions of creation—of development, of Theology— 
of how things ought to be—or, at least, leave them 
for future discussion and apply ourselves to the task 
of learning what zs—in the department of nature 
which we propose to investigate? If we can do this, 
we shall gain for ourselves all the good which Pos- 
itive Philosophy has ever had to offer as a guide in 
science, without committing ourselves to its dog- 
mas. And this much should be said in favor of 
Positivism, that its method is the only true one for 
approaching every natural science. Whether the 
human mind can stop, or ought to attempt to stop, 
within the limits which Positive Philosophy pre- 
scribes for it, is a very different question. 

Will you allow me then, for convenience of lan- 
guage, to speak of the earth with all its elements, 
the stars and planets, as all acting by a power of 
their own to produce the varied results that are 
naturally ascribed to them? But these results as- 
cribed to them are meaningless to us unless they 
have some known connection-with an end. And 
an end or purpose either by itself or as part of a se- 
ries of purposes, is always apprehended by us as 
having relation to sentient beings. 

We recognize then in the operations of inorgan- 
ic nature certain provisions for organized beings— 
beings that can grow, flourish, languish and die. 
The full provision consists of a mutual adaptation 
of the being and the world to each other. Itisa 


48 Instinct. 


maxim accepted almost without a dissenting voice, 
that animals provide for themselves by Instinct. 
Instinct seems to be regarded as something that 
has power to lay the world under contribution for 
its possessor’s good. It has been considered quite 
too much by itself, rather than as a part only of 
that complicated series of adjustments by which liv- 
ing beings are kept upon the globe. How small a 
part it plays among the lower animals, and the rank 
of its work, will be best understood by understand- 
ing the whole machinery of which it is only one 
wheel—a part essential to the range of animal life 
upon the globe, but still utterly valueless were there 
not a more complicated machinery or more com- 
plicated parts of the same machine in constant op- 
eration. Instinct alone would be like the loom of 
the cotton-mill with no card or spinning-frame to 
prepare material for its work. It is in the inorgan- 
ic world, in the vegetable kingdom and in the anat- 
omy and physiology of the animal system that we 
find the supplementary parts of that nicely-adjusted 
machine which we call Nature. 


The earth is clothed with plants, the rivers, lakes 
and oceans have their share of vegetable life. And 
rising higher still on the land and swarming in the 
waters, are the varied forms of the animal kingdom. 
We speak of animals as adapting themselves to the 
world by Instinct, and of the plants as finding their 
places by some law of distribution. All this is true. 
But the immediate agencies that attract our atten- 
tion in both cases are only a part, and a small part, 


Conditions of Life. 49 


of the agencies that secure the result. How futile 
would be the keenest Instinct of animals, and how 
useless all the machinery in the vegetable kingdom 
for the distribution of plants, if the earth itself were 
not a preserver of both animals and plants by the 
balance of its forces and the ready yielding of its 
elements for their protection and support ! 

We cannot tell what compensations there may 
be on other planets to make such life as our earth has 
possible on them, or what forms of life may be fitted 
to flourish under their physical conditions; but the 
constitution of our earth we can understand, and 
the capabilities of all living forms both of plants 
and animals we are able to gauge. If we cannot 
mark the exact power of endurance of each kind, 
we can set a limit of cold and heat beyond which 
no living thing could exist. A nearness to the sun 
that should give us a temperature of three hundred 
degrees in every portion of the globe would render 
the existence of every known form of life now upon 
our earth impossible. A temperature of zero con- 
tinued for ages would bring all oceans to solid ice, 
and in the end make the earth a barren waste. 

Let the earth then wander from her path and 
approach the sun until she circles far within the or- 
bit of Mercury, or let her forget the centripetal 
force and extend her path to the outer verge of the 
solar system; in one case she would become a blaz- 
ing ball until wrapped in the terrible mantle of 
oceans changed to steam; in the other, earth and 
water would be changed to solid stone and the sum- 
mer’s cold would exceed the deadly breath of arctic 

3 


50 Instinct. 


winter in the depth of its polar night. How pow- 
erless every form of life would be under such chang- 
es! The adaptation of the plant, the Instinct of 
the animal, the forethought, the wisdom and science 
of man would be without avail, and all forms of life 
would as surely perish as the nestlings of the bird 
or the tender infant would perish without a parent’s 
care. | 

The young bird just raises its head and opens 
its bill to be fed. Without the responsive care of 
the mother it must die. Little more than this act 
of the young bird, in the series of acts necessary for 
its support, is the act of the most cunning Instinct 
or of human wisdom itself compared with all the la- 
bors of mother earth to supplement their acts in 
sustaining life or securing enjoyment. The earth 
completes her circuit round the sun and gives each 
year the conditions of some form of life from pole 
to pole. She supplements, on a grand scale, the 
structure, function and Instinct of all the tribes that 
dwell upon her. No matter now how all these ad- 
justments were secured. Structure and function 
and Instinct are adapted to the conditions of the 
globe, and all of these together secure or make pos- 
sible the forms of life that now exist. And what a 
multitude of conditions must combine in the struct- 
ure and movements of the earth itself to foster the 
wealth of life which she lovingly bears on her bos- 
om! In the summer months she cares for the 
northern zone. She wakes to life the sleeping 
_ germs, the waiting buds and bulbs, by lengthening 
| the day and wooing the vertical sun as the mother 


Provisions for Life. 51 


bird with patient watching warms to life the egg 
within the nest. But when the sun has quickened 
life, the office of the earth has but just begun, as 
the work of the mother bird begins in earnest when 
the hungry brood call for food. 

The quickening of the thousand forms of life, 
from bud and root and seed seems the signal to the 
earth for renewed activities on every side to supply 
them with the means of growth. In the soil she sets 
to work a laboratory so wonderful that all the science 
of the world cannot equal the perfections of its 
operations. She there combines the gases, gives 
up the richness of her rocks and forms the food on 
which plants can alone exist. Then through the 
thousand pores she draws the food in contact with 
the rootlets that are eager to drink it in. In the 
air she brings to every leafa supply for its thou- 
sand hungry mouths. At night she distills the re- 
freshing dew, and anon she brings up the thick wa- 
ter cloud that, descending in the rain, gives verdure 
to the field and forest and springs among the hills. 
Who can contemplate the machinery by which life 
is sustained for a single summer and not be struck 
with the wonderful provisions in inorganic nature, 
a single one of which failing no adjusting power of 
animals or plants could save them? That chemis- 
try of soils and air,—that mechanism of attraction,— 
that machinery of evaporation and transportation 
-and condensation must all be kept in constant oper- 
ation to secure this one result, the perpetuation of 
life on the globe. And how wonderfully alike is 
the sum of all these agencies from year to year! 


52 Instinct. 


The winds blow when and where they list—the 
days of wet and drought and heat and cold no one 
can foretell. But at the end of the year, the result 
of all these operations is found to be near the re- 
sult for all other years—to come so near to the or- 
dinary range of climatic change that it may with 
truth be said that seed-time and harvest never fail. 

Nor is the earth’s work finished when this com- 
plicated machinery within her soil and atmosphere 
has covered the fields and forests with their yearly 
fruits. When the plants have provided for them- 
selves in ways which we shall describe, through this 
agency of the earth, she, like a careful mother, pro- 
vides for their winter’s sleep. In northern climes 
the water takes the feathery form of snow, and likea 
covering of down protects the tender plants and roots 
so that many forms are preserved that but for this 
protection would be destroyed or confined to more 
southern lands. While northern life is sleeping, 
the same forces that once acted upon it are provid- 
ing for the southern zones. If we go back to geo- 
logic ages the lesson is the same. The provision 
was the same in kind as now appears, but each geo- 
logic age was itself a provision for those that were 
to follow—and all of them were preparatory for the 
present. While the earth supplied the wants of 
the tribes that held possession of her, in each of her 
unmeasured eras, she was providing as by a demi- 
urgic Instinct for the present generations. No 
matter now what were the forces employed, no 
matter whether all this work is the wild sport of 
chance or the ordaining of Infinite Wisdom. In 


Geologic Change. 53 


either case the result is plain, and such a one that 
all must admit that the structure of the earth and 
all its surroundings justify themselves to reason as 
a fit provision for such a being as man is. As he 
progresses in knowledge he not only does better for 
himself, but he discovers new adaptations of this 
physical universe to his wants. Every fracture of 
the rocks, every folding stratum, every vein of met- 
al, every mineral deposit and every step by which 
oceans were bounded, mountain chains thrown 
up, water sheds determined, river channels cut and 
springs planted among the hills, all these labors 
of the earth, seem to have been as truly for her 
children—for every living thing—as the instinctive 
work of animals is for their young which they pro- 
vide for, though perchance are never to see. 

Thus far we have spoken of the earth as though 
caring for organic beings as the mother cares for 
her children. In all the changes of the earth there 
have been results that simulate the work of Instinct, 
and simulate it so closely that many changes in the 
inorganic world supplement the operations of life, 
as though the Physical Forces, Physiological Forces 
and Instinct took counsel together in caring for 
every living thing, and each took up the task at an 
appointed time. One responds to the other, and so 
completely do they do this that it is difficult in all 
cases to say which we should most admire in the 
parts they play in carrying on the work. As the 
young of the animal responds to the parent’s In- 
stinct to secure its aid, so do the various tribes of 
plants respond to inorganic nature. 


54 Instinct. 


In the changes of the inorganic world we recog- 
nize no care for itself. There is nothing in itself to 
be cared for. We see no purpose except in connec- 
tion with life or in relation to it. And however 
vague our notion of Instinct may be, we always rec- 
ognize in it some purpose, and that purpose as hav- 
ing relation to life. We may then readily recog- 
nize operations in inorganic nature having reference 
to plants, their preservation or growth, while there 
is no possibility of recognizing such care in the 
globe itself for its own sake or for the sake of any 
of its parts. We do not see how Infinite Wisdom 
even could devise any thing for the good of inor- 
ganic nature or any part of it. The conditions of 
receiving good are found only in living beings. 

But in the plant, a living being, we may recog- 
nize a provision for itself, because in it is a life to be 
preserved, and certain conditions are to be secured 
for the best manifestation of that life. The plant 
also may have relations to the animal kingdom, 
making for it, or some portion of it, instinct-like pro- 
visions, as inorganic nature has made for the plant. 

We have here also in the plant an entirely new 
field of activities—those growing out of real paren- 
tal relation. The tree has not only to provide for 
itself but for the thousand young plantlets set free 
in its seeds, each one fitted to become a new centre 
of life and representative of the species. We have 
then in the plant all those activities that secure in 
the vegetable kingdom the same ends which in the 
animal kingdom are usually secured by Instinct— 
care of the individual and the production and care 


Adaptation of Plants. 55 


of young for the preservation of the species. For 
convenience in illustrating these activities we shall 
speak of the plant as sentient. 

The curious processes by which every species 
adapts itself to the world may be structural or func- 
tional; but a plan is so readily recognized and the 
results are reached by such complicated operations, 
all moving harmoniously together, that every ob- 
server must be struck with the close imitation of 
voluntary action—of instinctive foresight and skill 
in adapting means to ends. We have this apparent 
foresight and skill manifested to some extent in al- 
most every plant that clothes the earth, and almost 
every species has manifestations of contrivance pe- 
culiar to itself. 

The study of the instinct-like provisions in the 
growth of plants and bodies of animals will prepare 
us to understand that acknowledged Instinct, in its 
lowest forms, simply carries the work of life one 
step farther through volition, than mere structure 
and function could possibly do. 

The best known trees—the oak or apple—will af- 
ford ample illustration of provisions for themselves 
and young that simulate the work of Instinct. 

The oak, that must brave the storms for centu- 
ries, sends out its thickened roots swelling high 
from the trunk, like buttresses to a eastle wall, but 
firmer in position and better balanced than any 
ever fashioned by the wisest architect. The Eddy- 
stone light-house, that defies the power of the sea, 
was fashioned by its great builder, Smeaton, from 
the study of the oak. Well may this tree be taken 


56 Instinct. 


as the symbol of strength. Every limb is banded 
with swollen rings of gnarled and knotted fibre. 
The work is done for centuries, and every year adds 
new supports to meet the increasing weight from 
growth. But this work is all varied as the exi- 
gencies of the case demand. The oak upon the 
hill-side, exposed to every wind, builds its base 
broader, springs every buttress deeper, and strength- 
ens most the side that must bear the constant at- 
tack. All this is the law of its growth, says one. 
Certainly it is, but that law of growth provides, like 
the law of Instinct, for the preservation of the indi- 
vidual according to the conditions which are to be 
met. There is in the organism a certain amount of 
flexibility, enabling it to meet the varying condi- 
tions, and an actual change according to the condi- 
tions, as certain and complete within certain limits 
as though sensation and volition were agencies in 
the work. 

Every tree is a community of individuals, and 
the trunk is the common work of all the buds and for 
their use, as the coral dome is for the coral polyps, or 
the hornet’s nest is for the community of hornets. 
The coral dome is the product of growth and the 
nest is the work of Instinct; but they both have 
the same relation to a community, they are the 
joint product and the joint property of all the indi- 
viduals that labored or were concerned directly or 
indirectly in their production. As the coral polyp, 
each working for itself, aids by the law of its growth 
to build up a structure for the benefit of the whole 
colony, so do the oak buds by the law of their 


Instinct-like Work. 57 


growth build up the trunk and all the machinery 
of the roots for the benefit of the thousands of in-_ 
dividual plants or buds that make a full grown 
tree. In the same way, but under the impulse and 
guidance of Instinct, do social animals, like the hor- 
net and beaver, build nests and dams for the com- 
mon good. 

Since the tree is fixed to one place and yet must 
feed mainly upon the products of the soil, it pro- 
vides for itself anew every year organs for feeding, 
by increasing its surface of root by the formation 
of fibrils that penetrate the soil in all directions. 
The food of the tree consists of the salts and gases 
in solution. As these substances are carried down 
by abundant surface rains, or drawn up by capilla- 
ry attraction, they cannot escape the eager rootlets 
that sweep the soil in all directions by their fixed 
net-work, as completely as the coral polyp and oth- 
er forms of animals sweep the waters with their ten- 
tacles. 

In the spring time also the tree puts out its 
wealth of leaves to gather additional food from the 
air. And what ample provision is made for carry- 
ing on this work! What apparent forethought and 
wisdom do we here find in the economy of the tree! 
The leaf not only gathers crude materials from the 
air, but it is the laboratory in which all materials 
taken from both earth and air are elaborated and 
fitted for building up the tree in all its parts. The 
material that forms the leaf must itself be first elab- 
orated. How shall the tree without leaves clothe 
itself with its acres of foliage? It does this by a fore- 

3* 


58 Instinct. 


sight which closely imitates the higher provisions 
made by Instinct. Near the close of each season 
there is elaborated by every tree food that is not 
then used but stored up in its tissues for a day of 
need. That time of need is the next spring, when 
the new generation of leaves suddenly appears, un- 
folding as garlands of beauty upon every tree and 
shrub, but having in addition to their beauty of 
form and color for adorning the earth, the more im- 
portant office of building up the treeand preparing 
for flowers and fruit that without the leaf would 
wither and fall for want of food. Now it is,asa 
first step in the work of the new year, that the ma- 
terial prepared beforehand by the tree and safely 
kept in its tissues during the winter months, is 
called into requisition for leaf-making. In vain 
would the spring sunshine and showers soften the 
sward and stimulate the buds, and quicken the 
roots to gather materials from the soil—the tree 
would die in the midst of plenty and with every 
outward condition in favor of its life, had it not 
wisely stored up material already elaborated for the 
making of leaves. When they are once unfolded, 
the earth and air are both laid under continued con- 
tribution to furnish all the products of the year. 
And when the layer of woody fibre has been added 
to the tree, the fruits brought to their perfection 
and the buds set and sealed with cunning workman- 
ship, the tree lays by a store of food for the growth 
of those buds which are to enliven another year, as 
certainly as the instinct-guided animal ever made 
provision for its young. 


Apparent Forethought. 3 59 


This apparent forethought in preparing materi- 
als and storing them fora time of need, is not man- 
ifested by the trees alone, but in a greater or less de- 
gree it is exercised by every plant that grows— 
most manifest is it in those that live more than a 
single year. 

What wonders are performed beneath our very 
feet! If we could look beneath the thick woven 
sward of the meadows, or roll back the decaying 
leaves of the forest, or pluck up the thickened root- 
stocks of the water lily and kindred forms from their 
oozy beds beneath the shallow lakes, we should find 
in every place evidence of instinct-like forethought 
among the plants and provision for their future 
wants. . 

When the frost of autumn and ice of winter 
have covered the earth with death, so that to the 
eye there seems to be but mere remnants of wither- 
ed grass and herbage, we still wait in confident ex- 
pectation that spring will wake new forms to sud- 
den life from hidden germs, as by enchantment. In 
roots of grass and bulb of lily, in all the thousand 
store-houses beneath the soil, the busy, prudent 
plants have laid up their provisions ready for instant 
use—not to preserve life in winter—but for their 
spring’s work in bringing sudden beauty of leaf and 
flower upon the earth, when wakened to activity 
from their winter’s sleep. They answer to the call 
of the great magician, the sun, whose touch dis- 
solves as by enchantment the flinty soil and palsy- 
ing power of winter; and now with eager haste they 
utilize the stores of food which they carefully re- 
served the year before,when they seemed to be liv- 


60 Instinct. 


ing to the extent of their means. There is no such 
foolish extravagance, in the plant economy, as liv- 
ing to the full extent of income each year, except 
when the time has come for the plants to pass away 
and then with true parental Instinct they bequeath 
all they possess to their children; which bequest is 
always found to be just enough to start the young 
plantlets well in life, till large enough to work and 
gather materials for themselves. All the wealth of 
beauty in early spring—the green blade of grass— 
the fragrant Arbutus of the hill-side and the golden 
Caltha by the brook,—these all are the products of 
plant labor of the former year. 

These slow, secret processes are hid from the eye 
of the most careful observer, and they would never 
be known were it not for the sudden display of leaf 
and flower in spring time,that reveals the secret of 
this hoarded wealth. 

But there are other processes by which the plant 
provides for its growth and seemingly for its enjoy- 
ment and rest, as though it were a sentient being. 
TheSun-flower turns its broad disk towards the sun 
that its hundreds of flowers packed in one head may 
bask in his light. A multitude of smaller flowers 
that fail to attract the attention of common observ- 
ers, are silent worshippers of the sun, or turn fondly 
towards his life giving rays. And not the flowers 
alone but leaf and stalk bend from the darkness to- 
wards the light which can alone give the conditions 
of life and growth. The power that turns them is 
no mere enlargement of cells nor change of structure 
as we are sometimes told, but the movement is as 
inscrutible as the folding of the leaf of the sensitive 


Fly-trap—Sun-dew. 61 


plant, or the sleep of the water lily when she folds 
her petals of ivory and gold,to gather new beauty 
and richer perfume for the morrow. 

There are among plants other operations whose 
purpose we may not be able to solve satisfactorily, 
while the acts or operations have all the character- 
istics of instinctive contrivance. What shall we say 
of the Catch-flies that at every joint pour out their 
sticky fluid that holds all the smaller insects as bird- 
lime spread by the fowler’s art, holds birds upon the 
branch? There is also the Venus’s fly-trap of our 
southern states, that has a portion of its leaves fash- 
ioned specially for its work—the barbs all set for 
holding their prey—the bait poured out by the trap 
itself to allure the unsuspecting fly within the cruel 
jaws that close all the tighter for the victim’s strug- 
gles.* Its near relation is that gem among the flow- 
ers, the Sun-dew of our bogs. There is no more 
beautiful object to a Botanist’s eye than this Drose- 
ra rotundtfolia, that puts a garniture of ruby points 
upon every leaf and has every point tipped with a 
glittering diamond. Inthe sunlight it is like some 
precious jewel. But all this display is death for the 
unwary insects attracted by this tempting feast. 
For every diamond point is simply treacherous glue 
and is to the insect like the mire and quicksand to 
the higher animals. Every struggle makes his case 
more hopeless, and he is soon wound in a multitude 
of threads drawn from those globes of clear waxy 
dew that distills from the brilliant points and gives 





* —but secretes much more to digest him !—Prof., A. GRAY. 


62 Instinct. 


the plant its name. When the victim is fairly en- 
snared the leaf slowly encloses the body, taking 
days for the operation, and all the slender points 
bend towards it as though the plant were feeding 
like the hawk or tiger, on its prey. 

Near by this beautiful destroyer may often be 
found the Pitcher-plant, Sarracenia purpurea, of 
which it may be said, “If the Drosera slays its 
thousands,the Sarracenia slays its ten thousands.” 
Where can be found such a death-dealing instru- 
ment? one more perfectly fitted for its work? 
Each leaf forms of its blade a tube or pitcher that 
becomes a horrid prison. Down deep in its cav- 
erns there is a pool of death probably supplied by 
the plant itself,so that the place of execution is al- 
most ever ready for its victim. The expanding 
portion of the leaf that serves as a portal to this 
Avernus for insects, is attractive enough and offers 
no resistance to the various kinds that seek the ap- 
parently safe and cool retreat that always stands so 
invitingly open. The sharp hairs upon its surface 
all point downwards and gradually lengthen towards 
the prison. But when the last row is passed there 
is a steep and smooth passage to that bourne from 
which so few insects ever return. For if by chance 
one can drag himself up the steep plane, he is met 
by those frowning palisades over which he went 
down with ease, now rising high, thickly set and 
pointing downward. Those who have gathered 
these plants in summer and poured out from the 
hollow leaves the hundreds of decomposing insects, 
have seen that this machinery has done its appoint- 


Sex among Plants. 63 


ed work with the certainty of the most cunning 
beast of prey or the most skilful devices of men. 

But all the economy of the plant thus far men- 
tioned probably has relation to its own welfare as 
an individual. The imitations of Instinct are even 
more marked in the provisions which the tree 
makes for its young. Inmany plants this care ex- 
tends not only to the maturing of the seeds but in 
many cases to their distribution. 

It is a remarkable fact that in the vegetable 
kingdom we find the distinction of sex as -well 
marked as among animals—the distinction mani- 
festing itself in some form almost to the lowest 
types of plant life. If we begin by recognizing the 
existence of a benevolent Creator, we can readily 
understand the final cause of sexual distinction 
among animals, when we estimate the revenue of 
enjoyment to all higher sentient beings, from the 
parental relation. But that the distinction of sexes 
should obtain in the vegetable kingdom where sen- 
sation even is unknown, can never be explained on 
the theory of benevolence in the Creator, unless we 
look entirely beyond plant life for the objects to be 
benefited by means of this relation. Such theories 
might be started in regard to this duality of struct- 
ure and nature in plants of the same species or 
double nature of the same plant, as would appear 
plausible at least to those who are ready to grant 
that every thing is wisely created for some purpose. 
But it does not come within the scope of our pres- 
ent subject to propose or defend any peculiar the- 
ories of creation. We simply take the plant as it is 


64 Instinct. 


and trace the structure and function of organs by 
which the young plants are matured and provided 
for by their parents. 

Among our common plants we shall find abun- 
dant illustrations for our purpose ; and the more com- 
mon the better. When the apple blossom opens 
in spring, the showy petals, that delight us by their 
beauty of color and sweet perfume, are but the out- 
er adorning of a much more wonderful workman- 
ship within the flower. In the base of that flower 
even now, the outlines of seeds can be found cover- 
ed in the minute ball of tissue destined in time to 
become the apple. But above those seeds rise the 
stamens bearing pollen and the pistils to receive the 
life-giving grains of dust. Lest the work should 
not be well performed there is honey poured out 
by the apple blossom as well as by thousands of 
other flowers, to attract the bees, that in their eager 
haste to gather the sweet scatter the pollen grains 
upon the stigmas and distribute them from flower 
to flower. When the pistil has conducted the sub- 
stance of these grains of pollen to the seed, it has 
at once an independent life. It is henceforth a 
new plant, and the whole energy of the tree is at 
once taxed to bring that seed to perfection and se- 
cure for it the conditions of independent growth. 
Around the germ, or in some organs connected 
with it, the tree stores up starch, sugar and other 
products fitted to support the young plantlet until 
large enough to gather food for itself from the earth 
and air. That this provision is for the young plant, 
is shown by the fact that if the germ is not fertil- 


Fertilization—Distribution. 65 


ized by pollen so as to have power of independent 
growth, the seed fails to fill. This is certainly the 
rule—if there are any exceptions, they are not more 
common than parthenogenesis in the animal king- 
dom. The necessity of fertilization to secure the 
filling of the seed, is illustrated by what occurs in 
many of our most useful cultivated plants, especial- 
ly in the Indian corn. Every silk of the ear is con- 
nected with a kernel ; and its office is to conduct the 
life-giving portion of the pollen that may chance to 
fall upon it to the kernel hidden in the husks be- 
neath. If it does the work, we have the golden 
rows well filled. But for every thread that fails, a 
vacant place is found upon the ear in harvest time. 
The kernel fills with food fitted for the support of 
the living germ within it. And all that wealth of 
food for man so abundantly produced each year-— 
the rich harvest of grain that gives stimulus to trade 
and commerce because so essential to the daily sup- 
port of animal life, is but the provision which the 
plants have made for their young. 

But when the seed is filled the young plantlet 
is simply provided with means to start in life—its 
final welfare depending upon its finding a congenial 
soil. To secure this, special provision has been 
made by many plants for the distribution of their 
seeds. To some seeds balloons of down are fixed 
‘by which they are lifted by the winds and scattered 
broadcast over the land. Others, like those of the 
Elm and Birch, have a web or circular wing—others 
still have prongs with barbs that fasten upon men 
and animals and thus they are distributed by un- 


66 Instinct. 


willing agents. The Wzstletoe supplies its seed with 
a glue that holds it to the branch where alone its 
parasitic life can be sustained. The student of 
Botany is amazed at the wealth of invention mani- 
fested in this machinery of plants to secure the dis- 
tribution of the seeds. The plume, the barb, the 
hook, the spring, the wing in countless modifica- 
tions are all employed according to the needs of 
the plant. i 

But instinct-like provisions made by plants are 
not always for the benefit of themselves or their 
young. Plants become protectors as well as sup- 
porters, of many of the insect tribe. The Gall-fly 
has but to deposit its eggs upon the leaf or branch 
of the Oak, and the tree, like a careful nurse, makes 
as ample provision for the young insect as is ever 
made by animals under the guidance of Instinct for 
their own young. ‘The tree forms a gall or oak-ap- 
ple which serves as a home and feeder for the imma- 
ture insect. This provision is not made for one in- 
sect alone but for many, and a like provision is made 
in some form by a multitude of plants. In every 
case the provision is adapted to the habits of the 
insect and is always the same in kind for the same 
species. What is more curious than to see the Oak 
using its own resources to build a house and furnish 
food for the insect cast upon its care? The Golden- 
rod and Potentilla in their swollen stems, the Wil- 
low and the Spruce in their false cones oftentimes 
with an insect under every scale, show in different 
ways this protecting care of plants towards their 
insect foes. 


BEC RUHR Lh 


OPERATIONS IN PHYSIOLOGY SIMULATING _IN- 
STINCT ; AND THE LOWEST FORMS OF INSTINCT 
FOR THE WELFARE OF THE INDIVIDUAL ANI- 
MAL SUPPLEMENTING PHYSIOLOGY OR FUNC- 
TION OF ORGANS. 


Intelligent and Instinctive Acts—The Tent.-Moth—Animal Phys- 
tology.— Structure, Function and Instinct, supplementing each 
other.— Unity from system. — Specific Plans — Servitude of 
Plants.— Life and its phenomena— Evolution of the Tree— 
The animal body a Machine—Its Evolution from the Egg— 
Variables giving rise to Species—Alchemists.— Evolution of a 
specific form, the Robin —Growth of the bird requiring Instinct- 
tve Action —The first Instinctive Act—Selection of food:—Re- 
lation of Life to the Physical Forces—Doctrine of Evolution — 
LfHigher manifestation of Instinct in securing food, 


WE shall not fail to acknowledge Intelligence 
wherever we find it. And any act performed be- 
cause an end is comprehended by the actor as de- 
sirable, and because the act is comprehended asa 
means to secure that end, we regard as an act of 
Intelligence, whether it is performed by an animal 
with two feet or four. 


68 Instinct. 


But we believe it can be shown that there are 
many acts performed by sentient beings, that, as 
means to ends, are the perfection of wisdom, while 
there is no comprehension on the part of the actor 
of the end to be reached, or of his act as a means 
to secure the end. Such acts are truly instinctive 
according to the substance of the definitions we 
have quoted ; or better still, according to the pop- 
ular meaning of the word instinctive. Take for 
one single illustration, the Tent-moth, that is so in- 
jurious to our apple trees. There is not one of them 
alive in New England this winter month. But prob- 
ably it would not be difficult to find a bunch of its 
eggs glued to an apple twig. And when the young 
leaves begin to expand, a brood of young caterpil- 
lars will be ready to feed upon them. They will 
work together and spin a web or tent for their con- 
venience, making it larger as they need more room. 
And when their feeding days are over, they will de- 
sert the web and each finding a secure place will 
prepare a cocoon for transformation. All the work 
of the colony goes on as regularly and with the 
same certainty in its methods and results as the 
growing of the leaves, or flowers, or apples upon 
the tree where it is found. There is no instructor 
of the young brood, for all the parent moths died 
the year before. They have no chance to copy. 
They have impulse and guidance,and do just what 
it is best for them to do for their own good and to 
continue the species. They do this without expe- 
rience and without instruction, and all colonies do 
exactly the same thing. These are the acts of wis- 


Intelligence. 69 


dom and intelligence to which Hamilton refers as 
being performed while the actors are as ignorant of 
the end to be accomplished as the water-wheel is of 
the machinery it sets in motion. To prepare the 
way for the consideration of these truly instinctive 
acts, that display a wisdom not found in the actor 
but which is often ascribed to him simply because 
the acts are voluntary, we have introduced inorgan- 
ic nature and plant life, to show that in them we 
have just such operations as are performed by ani- 
mals through those acts that are truly instinctive, 
though often cited as evidence of intelligence and 
wisdom in the actors. We propose to continue 
these illustrations of instinct-like operations in plant 
life and that part of animal life, where volition can 
have no agency, until we reach that point where the 
simplest voluntary act is introduced to carry the 
work of life one step farther than it is possible for 
it to be carried by structure and function alone. 
From that point we shall find the instinctive princi- 
ples of action widening and producing more and 
more complex results until Intelligence is intro- 
duced ; and this is introduced chiefly as a means of 
securing enjoyment, and to carry the being, as in 
the case of man, into regions entirely above mere 
physical life, for it is impossible for the mere con- 
tinuance of physical life to be better cared for than 
it is by Instinct alone. 


In our last lecture we referred especially to 
those physiological changes within the plant by 
which it provides for itself to meet the change of 


70 | Instinct. 


seasons, and secure the best condition of growth. 
In all these physiological functions and adaptations 
to heat and moisture, darkness and light, we saw 
adaptation of means to ends such as justified itself 
to the Reason of man. They all had special refer- 
ence to the welfare of the individual plant. No 
careful observer can fail to see adaptation in the 
parts of a plant working out as specific results as 
are ever seen accomplished among animals or men. 
Whatever his theoretical notions of inorganic na- 
ture may be, as of something formed and controlled 
by physical forces working under laws of mathe- 
matical exactness, or of species among organic beings 
as the “survivors of the fittest” in the great strug- 
gle for existence, he must recognize among plants 
an adaptation of parts to produce specific results— 
results necessary for the existence and well being 
of the plants themselves as individuals and species. 
No one pretends that there is any power of percep- 
tion, any sensation or volition connected with the 
plant, and yet operations are carried on by it pre- 
cisely as though sensation, perception and volition 
were all present. 

If we now consider the animal body alone, as 
far as anatomy and physiology can go, or rather 
physiology—for that explains the growth—we shall 
find that it involves the same kind of operations as 
are in the tree, but more complicated, rapid and mar- 
vellous in their results. In connection with all these 
operations in the animal body there may be sensa- 
tion, but perception and volition have no more to 
do directly in building up the animal system than 


Structure and Function. 71 


they have in arranging the fibers of the Oak or the 
angle of its branches with the trunk. 

We now wish especially to call attention to the 
instinct-like operations of vitality in building up 
individual structures—arranging all their parts and 
bringing them into harmonious action. 

The function of an organ is often what it is, or 
rather becomes useful to the being on account of 
the structure of the organ itself or of some part 
connected with it. Of what use would be the func- 
tion of the stomach for secreting gastric juice, were 
the stomach not connected with an apparatus for 
supplying it with food and also with other organs 
for the distribution of the nutriment to different 
parts of the body? What benefit the synovial fluid, 
if there were no joint to be lubricated by it? 

We see structure and function within the ani- 
mal body producing certain results for the body it- 
self and for the species. In plants, and some of the 
lowest forms of animals perhaps, the work is com- 
pleted by these two agencies alone. But when any 
being is of so high a type that structure and func- 
. tion alone cannot complete the work, then we find 
Instinct added to act as the handmaid of these two 
primitive workers, to supply materials or to give a 
wider range of activities,and finally to bring enjoy- 
ment to the individual through its activities. We 
find Structure, Function, and Instinct in its lowest 
form, all working together in the same line, appar- 
ently for the same purpose, or if for different sim- 
ple, subordinate purposes, to secure the same com- 
plex end. The most careful study of these three 


72 Instinct. 


agencies in every species only impresses us more 
fully with the conviction, that they are the three 
agencies supplementary to each other by which an- 
mal life is sustained and has secured to it, its infinite 
variety of expression. Nothing can well be more 
unlike than the species that make up the great 
branches of the animal kingdom. But structure, 
function and instinct are as perfectly adapted to 
secure the welfare of individuals belonging to one 
branch as to another. We may also consider a 
more complex plan of which these three agencies 
are but one part. For when we consider the struc- 
ture, forces and operations of the inorganic world, 
the structure and function of plants as a whole and 
the relation of their parts to each other,—the struc- 
ture, functions, instincts and relations of animals, 
the plan or system seems to be the same in kind as 
we see ina single individual or species, but more 
far-reaching still, embracing as it does the three 
kingdoms of nature as though they formed an or- 
ganized whole. But the oneness never impresses 
us as arising from any likeness of the things among 
themselves but from the peculiar relationship of the 
most diverse things to constitute one system, that 
brings the idea of unity necessarily to every mind 
that comprehends its parts, relations and opera- 
tions. Within this one comprehensive plan, by 
which all beings seem to be related for their mutual 
good, we may consider the various subordinate 
plans for specific purposes. These impress us more 
strongly perhaps because they are specific, especial- 
ly if they are so different from the general plan as 


Special contrivances. 73 


to be unexpected, as the oil gland in the fowl; or 
if the obvious relation is between two objects hav- 
ing no organic relationship, as the reciprocal effect 
of animals and plants upon the atmosphere for the 
mutual benefit of each, or the peculiar structure of 
many flowers in their relation to the structure of 
the bee that is to fertilize them. What contrivance 
of Instinct or Wisdom ever impressed one more 
than the structure and function of so many Orchid 
flowers as shown by Darwin, by which the parts are 
as accurately fitted to the head of the bee as are 
the parts of a complicated lock to its key? Orwho 
would expect that a plant should have a structure 
or function, or both combined, for destroying in- 
sects? We find these two elements combined in 
different ways, but each method of operation is as 
complete for the purpose as any work of Instinct. 
We are more impressed perhaps, by these specific — 
arrangements for some purpose that has no obvious 
relation to the good of the being in which it is 
found. We are not only impressed with the idea 
of contrivance, but of servitude when we see plants 
making special provision for their insect foes, pro- 
viding them at their own expense, with food and 
shelter. | 

We cannot help remarking, in passing, that such 
provisions are an injury to the species in which they 
occur; and therefore so far as these provisions are 
concerned, such species exist not through Natural 
Selection, but in spite of it. 

When treating of plants in the last lecture, we 
spoke of the instinct-like provisions in them as man- 

4 


74. Instinct. 


ifested mainly in their outward organs, or in the 
function of the mature organ. But a like control- 
ling power is manifested in building up every part 
of the plant, so as to form a complete whole, of com- 
plex parts. And of this power we propose now to 
speak. In the living plant or animal, even of the 
lowest type, we seem to have an immaterial entity 
—an essence to which we refer the peculiar charac- 
teristics of these organic beings. In the mineral 
kingdom we find the force of cohesion giving us dif- 
ferent forms of crystals from different elements or 
compounds; but here in the organic kingdom we 
have /zfe, a something which we hardly dare to de- 
fine, in these days of the conservation and unifica- 
tion of forces—but it is a something that from es- 
sentially the same elements, gives us the myriad 
forms of plants and animals, from the humblest 
Algae to man himself. If we cannot fully under- 
stand and define this agency, we can enumerate 
some of its results. It is from the careful study of 
these alone that we can hope for more knowledge 
of the agency itself. We now see this agency mant- 
SJested in the production of distinct forms or kinds of 
beings. Lor each kind there ts also a plan of struct- 
ure common to all individuals of that kind. Each in- 
dividual produced by this principle has a cycle of op- 
erations that brings the being to individual perfection, 
then to weakness, then to death, followed by the de- 
struction of the body by chemical agencies. Before 
death comes in regular order of nature by the comple- 
tion of the cycle of changes, there ts some relationship 
of that being to the origin of another of the same kind 


Life asa Builder. 75 


to continue after the first has passed away. This 
power then builds up the individual, and from that 
individual originates another, and so on, giving us 
the parental relation. In every vegetable and ani- 
mal this power presides, giving rise to certain activ- 
ities, which we sometimes call life—or better per- , 
haps, we regard the activities as the evidence that 
the principle of life is there, and we do this neces- 
sarily from our notion of causality. That we do not 
regard this agency as always active when it is pres- 
ent, is evident in our experiments in the sprouting 
of seeds. We apply certain conditions to call this 
agency into action, and not to create the agency it- 
self. The agency once inactive in the germ, under 
certain conditions, is called into activity and gives a 
specific result—or rather a long train of results 
which, from observation on other germs of the same 
kind, can-be predicted beforehand. This train of 
results consists in building up by evolution, a com- 
plicated structure from a single cell of simple struct- 
ure; in watching over that structure to secure its 
welfare by adapting its parts and operations to the 
world, in the same manner as the more general 
forces of the universe seem to have arranged and 
prepared the materials of the earth for the intro- 
duction of the living principle itself. We can sum 
up by saying that this force or principle is so far 
uniform in its operations as to give us the simplest 
notion of life, which all have, although they may 
not be able to define it. And this principle that 
impresses us as ove, under the name of //¢, mani- 
fests itself under hundreds of thousands of the most 


76 Instinct. 


diverse forms of matter composed of the same ele- 
ments, and takes for its cycle of operations a single 
day as in the lower algae, or centuries, as in some 
of the higher animals. If asked now for the origin 
of this principle, or of its relationship to the great 
forces of nature, we are at present, as utterly at a 
loss to account for them as we are to account for 
gravitation itself or for the law of its action. We 
can neither deduce this principle from the analysis, 
nor synthesis of the forces of the inorganic world. 
We see that they are conditions for its activity, but 
this no more shows that it is a modification of them 
than it follows that because water is the condition 
of the life of the fish, the fish is therefore a mod- 
ification of that element. It is a characteristic 
of this principle in all its manifestations to demand 
and use as a means of putting forth its activities, 
the different elements and forces of the inorganic 
world. If asked for the origin of organized beings 
we come back in all our investigations where we 
want something given to begin the work with; as 
much so, as we need in Geometry axioms that can- 
not be demonstrated. When Mr. Huxley has car- 
ried us back to PROTOPLASM, we feel that we are as 
far off from the goal as ever; and although some 
men stand franticly pointing into the dark, declar- 
ing that the chasm between vitality and physical 
force has been bridged over, we refuse to budge an 
inch till we see the bridge, and much prefer to be 
shouted at and even pounded as stubborn, than to 
follow a logic that does violence to every principle of 
sound reasoning, both in itsassumed data and in its 


Life as a Builder. 77 


conclusions. And in passing, it is well to remark 
that there are many points decided authoritatively 
by scientific men, that common men can judge of 
as well as they. Because one man knows more of 
fossil reptiles than another, it does not follow that the 
latter must accept all the conclusions of the former 
on every subject. If one does not understand fos- 
sil turtles, he may be able to understand a fair argu- 
ment and to detect bad logic. It has more than 
once happened that very able and learned compar- 
ative anatomists have fancied that they have found 
the head of an animal where nature placed his tail. 
But this entire misconception in regard to the 
structure of an animal, is nothing compared to the 
arguments that are often accepted because present- 
ed by able men,—arguments in which every prin- 
ciple of sound reasoning is reversed, and impassable 
chasms are bridged over with assertions. 
Dismissing for the present further speculations 
as to the origin and nature of life, since they are 
only incidental, we will confine ourselves to its phe- 
nomena, and especially, for the present, to those 
phenomena that, like the operations of Instinct, in- 
dicate a plan in building up a structure and keeping 
it in repair, as well as skill in executing the plan. 
We confine ourselves now to what takes place with- 
in the organism by evolution. And we shall find a 
seeming contrivance and skill shown in the selection 
and arranging of the materials so that the structure 
produced indicates a purpose in its several parts 
and as a whole, and the harmony of the whole is 
heightened by the function of each part being in 


78 Instinct. 


accordance with the plan. The perception of this 
plan is a necessary result when certain relations of 
the parts are perceived. 

Let us now briefly examine the structure of a- 
tree as produced by evolution from the seed. The 
origin of every tree, as is agreed by all Botanists, is 
a single cell; or if you prefer to start one step 
above, it is from a germ, with power of independent 
life,from the union of cells or their contents. From 
that minute point starts the Oak with all its compli- 
cated and orderly distribution of material. One who 
has taken the acorn from the parent tree, knows be- 
forehand into just what form the soil around the 
acorn and the gases in the air will be moulded under 
the guiding power of the germ which he plants. He 
knows beforehand what will be the mathematical 
relation of the leaves to each other, the form and 
flavor of the acorns which the tree will produce, and 
he knows that all these parts will be taken from the 
same soil and air that close at hand are furnishing 
the materials for a beech, a maple and a pine, per- 
chance. 3 

How inscrutable it is that one portion of that 
Oak should seek the darkness, plunging down and 
spreading in every direction where the light cannot 
come, while another portion as persistently pushes 
into the sun-light! But after we understand the 
plan of the tree, we understand that this polarity is 
necessary for its well being. The presiding power 
or organizing force had taken care that all parts 
should be disposed aright to carry out the plan. 

How strange, also, that from the subdivision of 


Method of growth. 79 


one primitive cell, thus forming in the beginning, 
cells alike so far as we can see, that we should have 
the proper division of wood and bark and leaves, 
with their wonderfully complex structure of cells 
and vessels all arranged for the service of the tree 
and with power to act so that each should do its 
part in the complicated machinery of plant growth. 
But the plan of the tree seems to need all this, and 
the invisible agency, at the proper time, gives to 
these cells of common origin the form, position and 
property, which should make them a fit part of the 
complex whole. When the proper time comes, 
the buds all appear in mathematical order upon the 
limbs, and some of those buds put forth flowers and 
all the machinery of fruiting, as well as leaves. 
Look at the thousands of trees and other plants 
that adorn our fields and forests, and see the plan 
of each and the skill with which that plan is execu- 
ted in every outward organ—the plan and execu- 
tion being the result of that principle within, which 
secures these varied forms and processes through 
the agency of matter and the physical forces, as the 
engineers use power from the same water-wheel and 
materials from the same store-house, to turn out the 
diverse products of a varied industry,—cloth and 
nails and chairs and guns,—according to the design 
and skill of the workmen in combining the mate- 
rials for some definite purpose. 

We may be told that one part of the plant 
structure is produced by shortening an axis, and 
another by the infolding and modification of a leaf, 
and so on through all the morphology of the plant. 


80 Instinct. 


Suppose we grant all this, as we are ready to do, 
the wonder still remains that the axis was shorten- 
ed and the leaf infolded and modified exactly as in 
the operations of Instinct, to produce just the re- 
sult needed for the welfare of the tree as an individ- 
ual or member of a species—to say nothing of the 
original production of the axis and leaf to be so 
modified. 


In the bodies of animals the ministration of 
this selecting and arranging power as manifested 
by the function of organs, is of the same kind as 
seen in plants, but the operations are more rapid, 
more complicated and wonderful. In the full grown: 
animal we have a machine, and the higher the ani- 
mal the more diverse the parts and complex the 
machine. The parts are made of different materials 
and diverse in form, but all nicely adjusted to each 
other for a purpose—or for many subordinate pur- 
poses, to secure the highest perfection of the individ- 
ual and the continuance of the species. The body 
of man or of one of the higher animals impresses us 
at once asa work of design, but of such design as 
we see accomplished by Instinct. We can trace 
the whole process by which the body of any of our 
higher animals is built up. And we see the same 
sort of contrivance in the formation of parts, wis- 
dom in selecting materials, and the same sort of skill 
in manipulating them that we see in the operation 
of the highest Instinct among bees and birds in the 
construction of honey-comb and nests. The grow- 
ing of this machine, after it is once formed with its 


Evolution. SI 


apparatus all complete, is wonderful enough, but 
there is something more wonderful, if possible, than 
the mere growth; it is the original structure of the 
machine,—the evolution of a complex organism 
from a mass of matter having no trace of organs,— 
through the agency of a principle within the matter 
itself. In the egg of the bird, which is even more 
complex than the eggs of most other animals, we 
see a yolk surrounded by the albumen or white. 
To the eye, unaided by the microscope, there ap- 
pears one nearly homogeneous semi-fluid body sur- 
rounded by another. The microscope reveals but 
little more—certainly it reveals nothing in the egg 
that suggests the form or the organs of the bird 
that is to come from it. The warmth of the moth- 
er bird, or an equal amount of warmth from any 
other source, is all that is needed, and in a certain 
number of days, varying with the species, there 
comes from that egg a bird perfect in all its parts. 
The yolk and white have disappeared. Instead of 
them you have bone and muscle and feathers, or- 
gans of sense and digestion, and the whole compli- 
cated machinery of a living animal. 

Now within that egg was an artificer that for 
want of a better name we call Z/e. And the pro- 
cess of this artificer’s work we can watch from day 
to day and from hour to hour, if we choose to do 
so, and trace every step from the segregation of the 
yolk and faint outline of a living form up to the 
completion of the work. | 


But the term //e is generic, if we consider only 
4% 


82 Instinct. 


the constant results produced by it. All life does 
not build up birds any more than all insects build 
honey-comb. Life has as many specific characters 
as there are distinct forms of living beings. 

We are not now discussing the question how 
these differences came to be, but simply call atten- 
tion to their manifestations. We have life a con- 
stant quantity, as we should express it in mathe- 
matics, and we have joined to this a vast number of 
variables which give us the forms of life as manifest- 
ed in distinct kinds. These kinds have not only 
life in common, but even the variables have some- 
thing in common, so that the kinds can be arranged 
into groups according to the similarity of these va- 
riables, giving us GENERA, FAMILIES, CLASSES, and 
finally two kingdoms, animal and vegetable, founded 
mainly upon the variable, sezsatzon. 

We do not wish here to be understood as en- 
dorsing the view that these variables are constantly 
changing or liable to change. We only speak of 
them as variables because they are the cause of dif- 
ferences in forms, all due to one great underlying 
principle which we call life, which no one fully un- 
derstands, but the distinctive phenomena of which 
every intelligent person understands as well as he 
does the phenomena of gravitation. We regard 
these variables as the same in kind as those that 
give rise to the different kinds of matter, or at least 
strongly analogous to them. We have the generic 
notion of matter gained from certain properties that 
must be present to give the notion of matter at all, 
and then the variables that give the different kinds 


Chemical Elements. 83 


of matter. The variables in this case are fixed so 
that probably no man now believes that Sodium 
and Potassium ever change, one into the other, or 
Iron into Manganese, or Silver into Gold, though . 
there is great likeness between some of these ele- 
ments, so great, that some eminent men have be- 
lieved either that all kinds of matter are modifica- 
tions of one element, or that each group of elements 
is a modification of one element. A crude belief 
of this kind was the foundation of the labors of the 
old Alchemists. It is certain that the likeness of 
the elements to each other is such that they can be 
formed into groups by a truly natural classification 
as can the kinds in the kingdom of life. The most 
accurate modern research among the elements, has 
but satisfied the best minds of their distinctness and 
that the Alchemists were not only pardonable in 
being misled by such a mistake but that the mis- 
take itself arose from careful study and great knowl- 
edge of the elements which they experimented 
upon. If those who hold that the variables that 
make the different kinds in the organic kingdom 
are of such a nature that we can regard these kinds 
all as modifications of one original simple form—if 
those who hold this view should in the end find 
that their theory is as unfounded as that of the old 
Alchemists proved to be, we can yet see that this 
mistake, if mistake it proves to be, has arisen from 
a most intimate acquaintance with the objects treat- 
ed of; and we shall be as thankful to them for their 
great contributions to science directly and indirectly 
as we are to the Alchemists for the acids and other 


84 Instinct. 


important agencies and information which they be- 
queathed to modern chemistry, which certainly 
would have been far behind its present state had 
_ not the transmutation theory kept so many experi- 
rienters for ages eagerly at work. 

But let us return to the variables in the king- 
dom of life. In the egg of the Robin, we have not 
only life but we have in consequence of a fixed va- 
riable, if I may be allowed the expression, that par- 
ticular species of bird: There was life—that could 
be understood as a distinct thing—and this life was 
finally to manifest itself fully in the production of 
the Robin in distinction from some other kind of 
bird. 

Not only are the notions of life, and animal life, 
and bird life, entirely distinct from the specific no- 
tion of the Robin, but they can all be reached by the 
inspection of the embryo bird by every person capa- 
ble of comprehension at all, before the specific char- 
acters of the Robin would be so marked as to be 
perceived by the best naturalist in the world who 
had studied only the adult bird from which the 
common notion of the word Robin is derived. But 
the Robin was from the first potentially present in 
the egg. The materialsin the egg do not differ, so 
far as we can see, either in structure or composition, 
from the materials in many other eggs; but there 
is an artificer there such as is found in no other 
kind of egg. He can build a Robin from the mate- 
rials and nothing else. This artificer needs a cer- 
tain degree of heat for his work. The heat may 
come from the mother bird, from a bird of any 


-  Larst instinctive Act. . 85 


other kind, or from a stove. Heat from the same 
source may call into activity the latent principle in 
a hundred kinds of eggs at the same time, as the 
heat from the sun is the condition for the germina- 
tion and growth of the thousand kinds of seeds that 
develop into plants every year. It is plain that heat 
and all the other physical forces have no formative 
power over organic beings to determine kinds, as 
these forces exert, or may exert, exactly the same 
influence over organic beings that in the same place 
are developing the most diverse forms and proper- 
ties. ; 

But this artificer in the Robin’s egg, being fur- 
nished with the proper conditions from the inorgan- 
ic world, the same exactly as must be furnished in 
the nests of other kinds for the production of young, 
selects the materials, joins them together in a 
certain order, and on a given day presents us with 
a work as perfect as can be made from the mate- 
rials in the egg. We have a bird fitted for inde- 
pendent life, and the bird is of a specific kind,—the 
Robin. 

The work now commenced must go on under 
the same guide or builder while it goes on at all, but 
the material is allused up. The young bird at once 
seeks food; if in no other way, by opening its bill 
to receive it from the mother. It has the appetite 
arising from the function of its body to impel it to 
some action, and it is guided in performing the right 
action without observation or instruction but by a 
tendency and power of direction that were ready 
when needed; and for the origin of this power we 


86 Instinct. 


search in vain in the history of the species. Such 
a tendency and power are a part of Instinct. This — 
instinctive act of raising the head and opening the 
bill was needed, and needed at once. Death would 
come without this simple action on the part of the 
young bird, in spite of its mother’s efforts. It was 
as needful for the first young bird that ever existed 
as for one to-day. It is here—it is present in every 
young bird on the globe that is hatched in so im- 
mature state as to be unable to walk. 

And here we see the first connection of Instinct 
with the instinct-like processes below it. There is 
simply a movement of the head to bring it into re- 
lation with something outside of the body. All 
else is dependent upon the Instinct of the mother 
bird that supplements this opening of the bill by 
supplying the young bird with the proper food. 
And this raising of the head and opening of the bill 
is no more comprehended by the young bird than 
he comprehended the distribution of material that 
forms his head or bill. It is an act performed by 
all young birds as soon as hatched and therefore can 
have no relation to experience or instruction. But 
in the case of those birds like our domestic fowls, 
that are hatched in a more mature state, the first 
instinctive act is much more complex. The young 
bird must select and pick up the first particle of 
food it ever receives. The very first act of taking 
food is as complicated in its nature as any subse- 
quent act of feeding can be. This complex act is 
performed by the bird by the same sort of law as 
its blood circulates ‘or its feathers grow. 


Growth. 87 


The food gathered either by the young bird or 
supplied to it by the mother contains the same ma- | 
terials as are found in its own body just formed from 
the egg, because Instinct guides in its selection. 
Physiological function of the mother supplied the egg 
from which the body of the young bird was formed, 
and now her Instinct leads her to supply, through 
volition, her young with additional substance of the 
same kind. The Instinct of the young bird and 
that of the mother both join to bring more material 
within the working sphere of the same artificer that 
first formed the bird from the materials in the egg. 
But how unlike in appearance from the substance 
of the egg, are the grain and insects now supplied 
to carry on the work! But Instinct recognized 
them as» proper materials before chemistry was 
known, and from these materials, that inscrutable 
somethirig that formed the bird within the egg now 
carries on its work to completion. It enlarges bone 
and muscle and feather. This is growth, which at 
first sight seems a simple matter compared with the 
evolution of a perfect bird with all its complex tis- 
sues and system of vessels from a single cell, but in 
reality it is just as difficult of comprehension, or 
rather just as far beyond our comprehension as the 
other. The materials used we understand perfectly, 
and the process of digestion and distribution we are 
able to trace very fully. We see in the process the 
action of chemical affinity and mechanical forces; 
but while all this knowledge is a great gain to us it 
is not all. We no more feel that we know it all 
now than we did before Chemistry and Physiology 


pr Instinct. 


were studied. We see chemical action and mechan- 
ical structure and osinose just as far as our best 
glasses will carry us,—but we see certain results 
which we cannot find in these agencies any tenden- 
cy. even to produce, except as they are servants to 
prepare and distribute materials. The organizing 
force itself and its wise action in building up the or- 
ganism are no nearer our comprehension than they 
were before Spencer and Huxley wrote. Growth 
in a complex being requires selection of material in 
proper kind and quantity to be carried to certain 
places, and there to be molded into certain forms 
for a certain purpose, in a self-acting machine hav- 
ing power of rapid and complex adjustments to the 
constantly varying conditions of the inorganic world 
and all organized beings with which it comes into 
any relation. It is not enough that Lime and Iron 
and Silica are carried to certain places, but they are 
selected in proper quantities and carried where they 
are needed for a specific purpose; and there they 
are mingled with other materials according to the 
office they are to perform, and then are molded into 
bone and feather, beak or talon, as the case requires, 
according to the leading idea of the machine in 
which the work is done. All this is entirely differ- 
ent from the work of Chemistry or Mechanics,—so 
very different that we see no more tendency in 
Chemistry and Mechanics to set this machine in 
motion and preside over its operations, even with 
the aid of all the favoring conditions of the universe, 
than we do in a finely adjusted machine to start it- 
self. The origination of organized beings through 


Functional Action. 89 | 


the direct agency of physical forces and perpetual 
motion, seem to us to stand on the same plane sci- 
entifically considered. But if one doubts this or 
can see farther and discern a transmutation of forces 
unperceived by common minds, still the fact remains 
that there is something within the living body that 
works with a purpose in regard to the whole struct- 
ure at any given time, for its preservation and also 
for the continuance of the kind. It not only selects 
proper materials for its work, but it stores up ma- 
terial for use at certain times, as fat in the fall of 
the year for the use of hibernating animals, and lime 
in crustaceans to suddenly form the new shell when 
the old one is cast. It thickens the covering for 
winter and throws off hair and fur when they are 
no longer needed. When bones are broken or 
wounds formed, it sets in motion machinery to re- 
pair the damage. In all this we see going on with- 
in the body perpetually the same sort of work that 
we find going on out of the body through that agen- 
cy which we call Instinct. And however diverse 
these bodies are in structure and the function of 
their organs, we find the Instinct connected with 
each, fitted to carry out to perfection the work be- 
gun within the body where the senses and volition 
of the animal have no agency in the operations. 
We can say of every animal that we find its Physi- 
ology and Instinct working together, one always 
supplementing the other so far as Instinct is need- 
ed to secure the life of a s'ngle animal or the con- 
tinuance of the kin’, 

And so far as we can see, the structure, function 


90 Instinct. 


and lowest form of Instinct by which the animal 
takes food, propagates its species and cares for its 
young till they are able to care for themselves,—all 
these must have been present from the beginning 
of each species as it now exists. If present species 
have been derived from other species, then Struct- 
ure, Function and Instinct, must have moved on in 
every change in the individuals that survived, so as 
to be properly called the ancestors of the present 
species. | 

It is only fair to remark that this is no argument 
against evolution of species from one form, if we 
suppose this evolution provided for in the beginning 
and all these activities arranged to come into play 
at the same time and work together, as the parts of 
a clock are so arranged by its maker that the hand 
shall point to the figures and the hammer give the 
corresponding number of blows—or as all the or- 
gans of a flower are so arranged as to act their part 
at the proper time for the fertilization of the seed. 

Having made these general statements in regard 
to the connection between the instinct-like opera- 
tions of physiology and Instinct itself, we may en- 
large more upon the method in which Instinct takes 
the first step in securing the welfare of the individ- 
ual. We have already referred to the Instinct of 
the young bird which enables the mother to provide 
forit. The peculiar Instincts of the young we shall 
refer to in another connection. We speak now of 
the adult in his simplest act for the preservation of 
hisown existence. The selection of food is the sim- 
plest instinctive act that has relation to the whole 


Securing Food. gI 


complex organism, and it is the lowest that involves 
any exercise of the senses as a condition for the ex-- 
ercise of the Instinct. This selection of the proper 
kind of food may come to be essentially connected 
in the adult with very complex activities and animal 
powers of a high rank. 

In the lowest forms of extozoa there seems to be 
no volition in taking food, so far as we can see, even 
in the adult. The food is simply absorbed. The 
coral polyp also is stationary, as is the oyster, and 
both must feed upon materials brought to them by 
the waters, though very likely there is volition ex- 
ercised by both animals in the process of selecting 
materials from the waters. But the most wonder- 
ful part of these animals, that which evinces the 
most evident design—the coral cells that form the 
coral branch or dome,and the pearly shell—are the 
simple products of growth,—volition neither origin- 
ates nor changes them. In higher animals we find 
Instinct manifested not only in selecting food from 
materials presented, but in seeking for it and secur- 
ing it. To do this, it is sometimes necessary that 
the Instinct of one animal shall take advantage of 
or circumvent the Instinct of another. The Bald 
eagle takes advantage of the Instinct and labor of 
the Fish-hawk to procure fish for himself by rob- 
bery. The Arctic Jager obtains its food by per- 
secuting the Gulls. And a Southern Gull steals 
from the Pelican. The cat tribe know without in- 
struction how to watch for prey. Those animals 
that must feed in winter when no food can be ob- 
tained know how to gather in stores, though they 


92 Instinct. 


may never have seena winter. Those that sleep 
in winter, simply prepare a nest. In both cases, In- 
stinct supplements function. Migration from place 
to place, as the supply of food changes, is the meth- 
od of solving the same question for many birds. 
Function thickens the coat of the animal for winter. 
This provision is just as needful as any thing In- 
stinct can do, but Instinct is not burdened with any 
thing that function can perform. All that relates 
to providing food in the first instance is left to In- 
stinct. That action of the system by which it lives 
upon the fat stored up in the fall and the change 
that takes place in hibernation by which the ex- 
penditure of material is lessened, are certainly func- 
tional changes. These are instinct-like provisions 
of the system; but the securing of the food in the 
first instance was done by a principle that supple- 
ments structure and function; and this principle is 
something entirely different from them, and some- 
thing that no structure or function of the animal 
system would suggest the existence of, except as we 
have learned by observation that there always is in 
the animal a directing power which we call Instinct, 
to supplement the structure and function of organs 
and thus to complete the work commenced in the 
body. 


DAE CALE Lis 


HIGHER FORMS OF INSTINCT FOR THE WELFARE 
OF THE INDIVIDUAL OR THE SPECIES, HAVING 
NO IMMEDIATE RELATION TO STRUCTURE OR 
FUNCTION OF ORGANS. 


Intelligence guided by experience—Instinct inaependent—A natural 
development. Building of nests or homes — Perfection of nest 
no test of the animals rank—The facts of Building stated — 
Relation of Building to Structure and Function.— Variation in 
Building. — Swallows. — Thrushes. — Oriole. — Black - birds. — 
Sparrows.—Nests from different locahties—Mr. Wallace's The- 
ory:—Difference in Building Power.—Ilmprovement by Practice. 
—The Cow-bird.— Supplementary Instinct of the Foster-parent. 
Change of Instinct compared with change in plants, 








Is that Instinct or Reason? is the common ques- 
tion, when an animal performs some act that com- 
mends itself to the Reason of man. Where we find 
animals adapting means to ends, the conclusion is 
often reached that there is Intelligence to guide the 
act, when the very wisdom of the act proves it to 
be instinctive,—that is, an act performed without 
any comprehension by the actor of the end to be 
reached. Pure Instinct works out the wisest results 
with the certainty almost of the operations of the 
physical forces of nature. And because these re- 
sults are wise, in the sense of being adapted to se- 
cure the welfare of the actor, and because volition 


94 Lnustinct. 


is brought into play, it is a very natural thing to re- 
fer such acts to Intelligence in the actor, which 
adapts means to ends through a comprehension of 
both ends and means. Great confusion has arisen 
from a failure to understand that the first introduc- 
tion of Intelligence, while it widens the sphere of 
action, always renders wise results less certain in 
the beginning than they are in the sphere of pure 
Instinct. Instinct can be cheated, as we shall show, 
at the proper; time but it is only in the sphere of 
Intelligence that mistakes and blunders are the 
common result, until experience whips the being of 
Intelligence into the right road. Pure Instinct 
needs no experience. It goes before to preserve 
life until knowledge from experience is possible. 
And in this work of preserving life where experi- 
ence could not be secured, it often performs wise 
acts,—just such acts as in beings of Intelligence are 
performed only after individual experience or in- 
struction from the experience of others. We must 
throw aside at once then that notion that an act of 
wisdom and intelligence is absolute proof that the 
wisdom and intelligence reside in the actor. That 
question can only be determined by considering the 
conditions under which the act is performed. The 
best corrective to these hasty conclusions that have 
been formed respecting the nature of Instinct in 
animals, from the kind of acts it secures, is found 
in the careful study of those operations performed 
by plants; because in them, there is no danger of 
being misled so as to ascribe wisdom to the actor. 
This is one reason why we have pointed out so 


Supplementary Work. 95 


many of these peculiar processes in the vegetable 
kingdom. The same instinct-like processes were 
traced in the evolution of animals, that we might 
find the exact point where Instinct comes in to car- 
ry on the work which the structure and function of 
organs both demand. We cited as the simplest in- 
stance of Instinct, the act of the young bird just 
from the shell, that lifts its head and opens its bill 
to receive the food needful to carry on the work 
thus far carried on by the use of the material in the 
egg. The material in the egg was just sufficient in 
quantity and had the proper proportion of elements 
to form the bird. The young bird came from the 
shell with a structure capable of receiving food, 
with an appetite to demand it and with an Instinct 
to receive it from the mother as in the case of the 
Robin, or to select and secure it for itself as in the 
case of the young of the domestic fowls. 

And these three agencies, Structure, Function 
and Instinct, were all ready to enter upon their 
joint action at the same time. And the nature or 
complexity of the Instinct varies with the complex- 
ity of structure so as to exactly supplement it. If 
this were not so the animal must die. So the won- 
ders of Instinct are no greater than the wonders of 
physiology in preparing and distributing food for 
the building up of the system, or the wonders of 
the eye that is ready for seeing without any knowl- 
edge of optics on the part of its possessor. Instinct, 
pure and distinct, in all its complexity, is as natural a 
development according to fixed law, as wings or 
teeth or claws according to the wants of the ani- 


96 Instinct. 


mal,—and the origin and development of one is just 
as far beyond our comprehension as the other. 

The taking of food is a prime necessity for every 
animal. The necessity begins almost at the instant 
independent life begins. It returns with regularity 
or at least with absolute certainty so long as the 
vital functions continue their normal activity. And 
any failure to meet the demands of the appetite for 
food and drink prevents all development and ordi- 
narily brings speedy death. 

The necessity for building nests or homes has no 
such immediate relation to the organization of the 
animal. And in the work of building we are intro- 
duced at once to the higher and more complex acts 
of Instinct. 

In the case of many animals, the building is sim- 
ply a contrivance for rearing young; the home 
never being used except for the production and 
care of the young, and therefore not being any thing 
growing out of the constant necessities of the indi- 
vidual, as is the taking of food. Some animals 
never build at all, either for themselves or their 
young, as is the case with most fishes as well as 
with many of the larger quadrupeds; and even 
some birds lay their eggs upon the bare recks or 
grass. There are examples enough from all depart- 
ments of the animal kingdom, in different parts of 
the scale of rank, to show that building is by no 
means a prime necessity even for the care of young. 
And it is further to be remarked that the skill in 
building is by no means in proportion to the rank 
of the animal in the intelligence of its acts in regard 


Flomes of Animals. Q7 


to other things. In fact those animals which in their 
structure and mental qualities seem to approach 
nearest humanity, either build in a very rude man- 
ner or not at all. In many cases the skill to build 
seems to be greater as the animal is lower in the 
scale. Certain it is, that the nest is no test of the 
capability of the animal in any other direction. It 
seems to be something which the animal has the 
impulse to build and the skill to build because it 
needs it for its own welfare or that of the species, as 
the silk worm winds the cocoon for a tomb in which 
to pass to a higher condition of life. 

There are certain things in reference to this ten- 
dency to build and the skill in doing the work that 
are not only curious but may have an important 
bearing upon the theories respecting the origin and 
development of animals. 

1. We find in some cases the building material 
wholly or partially secreted from the body of the 
builder,—as the silk with which the different spe- 
cies of spiders weave their webs or form their curious 
nests, and the wax for the Honey-bee’s comb. In 
the case of many other animals the sizing or cement 
is apparently furnished from the body of the build- 
er, as in the case of hornets and wasps of various 
kinds that make paper and the hardest kind of 
paste-board of woody fiber. The American Swift 
or Chimney-Swallow, also glues together the sticks 
to form its nest with a cement from the glands of 
its throat. 


2. Among animals very nearly allied there is 
5 


98 Instinct. 


great diversity of building as is seen especially 
among bees of different kinds; as the Honey-bee 
with its waxen wonder and the Bumble-bee with 
her few uncouth cells, chiefly the deserted cocoons 
of her brood. The Carpenter-bee and others give 
still more diverse methods. Among the wasp tribe 
we find those that build ‘vith woody fiber and 
others that build with clk.y. And both of these 
materials are wrought into varied forms by differ- 
ent species of the wasp tribe. 


3. The building is sometimes the work of the 
male alone, as in the case of the Sticklebacks among 
fishes; and sometimes of the female alone, as the 
nest of the Paper-wasp prepared for the first brood 
of workers in the spring; and sometimes it is the 
joint labor of both male and female, as among most 
birds. 

And then in other cases, all the care of building 
belongs to a set of workers that, never produce 
young themselves but seem to have their whole en- 
ergy concentrated on the work of providing for and 
defending the young of others. The White-ants 
and Honey-bees are the best examples of such 
builders. 


4. Those animals that show the greatest range 
of building power are those that build in the rudest 
manner; and those animals that attract the great- 
est attention by their complicated and skilfuly 
constructed homes, are those that work almost with 
the exactness of machinery. 


Impulse to Build. 99 


5. When we find different. methods of building 
practised by the same animal, we generally observe. 
the same uniformity in carrying out each of these 
methods, as we find among animals having only 
one method. 

The house of the Muskrat, built of mud and 
reeds in shallow waters, and the burrow of the 
same animal where he can find steep banks, are two 
methods by which he adapts himself to the differ- 
ent conditions of the places he inhabits; but each 
method is as uniform, in itself considered, as though 
that were the only method practised by the ani- 
mal. 

In a certain sense, the structure of an animal’s 
organs and the functions of his body havea relation 
to the home he prepares, for it is by structure alone 
or structure and function combined that he is ena- 
bled to build at all. But the impulse to build in 
the large majority of cases is one that has so remote 
a relation to the structure of the animal or his wants, 
and his ability to build so far transcends what we 
should expect from an examination of his structure, 
that we could never tell beforehand how any ani- 
mal would build. Nothing can well be more unlike 
than the homes of animals that we should naturally 
expect would build in the same manner. 

We see no tendency in the function of produc- 
ing young even to originate the impulse to build or 
to give the skill to build the numerous kinds of 
nests found inthe animal kingdom. In some cases 
we see the need of the nests and dens if the young 
are to come to maturity at all with any degree of 


100 Instinct. 


certainty; but the need arising from certain condi- 
tions does not in any manner account for the origin 
of the impulse to do a given thing, or the marvel- 
lous skill often manifested to meet the conditions 
which the necessity imposes. 

If we consider the nests of birds for instance, 
which are the animal homes best known to us, they 
nearly all are made simply for the care of the young; 
but no one could tell from the examination of a 
bird, what materials it would select for its nest, its 
method of combining them or the position of the 
nest. Birds very nearly allied differ much in their 
habits of nesting, and yet in each case the nest is so 
uniform in its structure and surroundings as to be 
in general characteristic of the species. That is, 
birds of the same species, under the same circum- 
stances, build with like materials and in like posi- 
tions. Any departure from the common method 
of building in any given locality will be found, on 
careful examination, to be very slight, and to be so 
uniform in the variation, according to the surround- 
ing conditions, as to appear to be a manifestation 
of a wider range of Instinct than had generally been 
attributed to the bird, rather than a result of intel- 
ligent contrivance, as is seen among men. The va- 
riation in the form of nest once seen can be described 
as the certain work of the animal when circum- 
stances demand or favor the change; the new man- 
ifestation of instinctive knowledge and skill being 
made in a specific method to meet the new condi- 
tions. 

We need only call attention to a few of our well 


Swallows. IOI 


known birds to show that each species instinctively 
gathers the same materials for its nests, combines 
them in the same manner, and selects for its nests 
similar positions; and also to show that birds of the 
same family, and even of the same genus, differ more 
from each other in all these particulars, than many 
birds do that are far removed from each other, ac- 
cording to the structure of organs and apparent 
ability to build. 

One of the Swallow family, like a skilful mason, 
fastens its nest of mortar against the frame-work of 
the old barn; another, with the same materials, fash- 
ions a more curious nest still, beneath the eaves of 
the same building,—both species preferring these 
places, when they can be found, to such places as 
they are compelled to select beyond the habitations 
of man. Another Swallow makes her grassy bed in 
a hollow tree, another digs deep holes in steep sandy 
banks, for its young. The so called Chimney-swal- 
low finds its favorite home in hollow trees or in the 
chimney of the farm-house, where it plasters its hard 
nest of sticks against the mason work with a cement 
secreted from its own body. If we class this bird 
near the Night-hawks, as some do, the difference in 
nesting is as marked, for the Night-hawks can hard- 
ly be said to form nests at all. No examination of 
these birds would enable the best Ornithologist in 
the world to predict what materials would be used 
for the nest of each, the form of the nest, or its 
position. The facts can be learned by observation 
only. But when the habits of each species, in 
nesting, have once been learned, they are always 


102 Instinct. 


given in describing the bird as something so con- 
stant from generation to generation,as to be worthy 
of study as characteristics of the species. 

Among the Thrushes, the well known Robin 
builds its rude nest of mud and grass in almost any 
elevated place, while other birds of the same ge- 
nus, as the Brown thrush, use no mud in the con- 
struction of their nests and often place them upon 
the ground. Thebrilliantly colored Oriole weaves 
her pendant nest upon slender, drooping branches. 
The nearly allied Crow-blackbird builds its nest 
entirely unlike this, of coarse materials, on the 
most solid basis it can select, while the Cow-black- 
bird, like the European Cuckoo, never builds at all; 
but deposits its eggs in the nests of other birds 
that its young may be cared for by them. 

Most of our sparrows build simple nests upon 
the ground, while the Chipping-sparrow, like the 
Canada Bunting, is known as “ Tree-sparrow,” 
and also as “ Hair-bird,” because it generally 
builds in trees and lines its nest with hair. 
What can be more curious, or mark more strong- 
ly the peculiar nature of Instinct, than that 
thousands of birds of the same kind should form 
nests of the same pattern, selecting materials of the 
same kind for the different parts, when no possible 
reason can be given why another form would not 
do as well for the bird and be as easy for her to 
build! | 

It is true, when we examine nests of the same 
species in different localities, that we find difference 
in material, difference in the perfection of the work, 


Uniformity of the work. 103 


and difference in the position of the nests. But 
when we have discounted all these differences, there » 
remains a permanence of type to the work of In- 
stinct in each species, almost equal to the perma- 
nence of structure, size, color and other character- 
istics that mark the species. So that we may fair- 
ly say that the uniformity of Instinct in the work 
of building, approaches the uniformity of physical 
function in giving character to the animal. 

We have here then two very distinct statements 
to make that seem borne out by careful obserya- 
tion. 

First,—That in the same species there is in 
general great uniformity in all the elements of 
building, as to materials, form, skilful work and posi- 
tion. And, 

Second,—That birds so yan allied as to be- 
long to the same family, and even the same genus, 
build in such diverse methods that their nests have 
little or nothing in common, except that they are 
nests. 

If we start with the assumption that each fami- 
ly of birds came from one ancestor, it is perplexing 
to understand how the slight differences of struc- 
ture which mark the distinction between many spe- 
cies, should be accompanied by such change of In- 
stinct that there should be such great diversity in 
building among birds of nearly allied species inhab- 
iting the same district; and yet such great uni- 
formity and permanence of method among birds of 
the same species. 

That the Baltimore Oriole should always aoe 


104 Instinct. 


its nest as it does, or that the Chipping-sparrow 
should line its nest with hair, and so on of the pe- 
culiar characteristics of the nests of hundreds of 
birds, are things which cannot be satisfactorily ac- 
counted for, by any appeal to the force of habit or any 
thing connected with the physical nature of the bird. 

It has been noticed by Mr. Wallace, in his val- 
uable contribution to Natural History,* that birds 
generally build with the materials most convenient 
for them; and this is undoubtedly true as a gener- 
al proposition, as it is true that they eat the food 
most convenient for them. And they select for 
their breeding-places regions where the conditions 
of building and feeding are best for them. This 
selection of localities by long journeys even, is a 
part of their instinctive work. 

But it is not true that birds select the most 
convenient material for building to any such ex- 
tent as to lead us to infer that they learned to 
build with any particular materials simply because 
they were abundant. For different kinds of birds 
living in the same region, build their nests upon 
very different plans, and very many of them build 
of materials that are by no means abundant. It 
is difficult to tell why the Great-crested Fly-catcher 
uses the cast-off skins of snakes in building its 
nests; but, certainly, it is not because they are the 
most abundant materials that it can find. 

If the exact material the birds wish for cannot 
be found, they select that most like it as a substi- 


* “Natural Selection,” p. 215. 


Wallace’s Theory. 105 


tute. The materials are then woven in a manner 
peculiar to each species, so that the nest of the 
bird, in very many cases, can be as certainly known 
when found deserted as it would be with the bird 
upon it. And when a new bird is discovered and 
its nest is found, that is described with nearly the 
same expectation on the part of the Naturalist 
that all other birds of that species will nest in the 
same manner, as that they will produce eggs of the 
same size, form and color. The character of the 
nest depends not only upon the material used but 
upon the form and the method in which the mate- 
rial is combined. The theory is broached by Wal- 
lace,* that the young bird studies the nest, and so 
builds by imitation. To say nothing of the want 
of observation which he shows in talking of the 
young birds as coming back to the nest, which sel- 
dom, if ever, happens among birds that build open 
nests, as the large majority of birds do,— he seems 
to overlook the fact that skill in combining the ma- 
terials for the nest, isthe marvel. It is not so much 
that the bird knows ow the nest is made as that 
she is able to make the nest at all,—especially that 
certain kinds of birds are able to build such com- 
plicated nests the first time the attempt is made. 
Let Mr. Wallace study the nest ofa Baltimore Oriole 
or of a Chipping-sparrow twice as long as the young 
birds remain in it, even counting the days before 
their eyes are open, and let him then go to work 
with all the implements the most skilful mechanic 





* “Natural Selection,” pp. 222-8. 
5* 


106 Instinct. 


can furnish,—let him work a month, and if he can 
produce as good a nest as tlie bird will build ina 
week with its beak and claws, we will listen patient- 
ly to the arguments to prove that birds learn by 
observation to build nests. We can hardly do so 
now. 

But it is said that some nests of the same spe- 
cies are better built than others. Certainly. 
Sometimes undoubtedly it is impossible for the 
bird to find the best materials; sometimes there 
may be structural difficulties in the bird that inter- 
fere with skilful work, and it would certainly be dif- 
ferent from any thing else in nature if we did not 
find birds of the same species differing somewhat in 
the nest-building power, as they do in size, beauty 
of plumage and power of song. It is possible that 
there is real improvement by practice, as Wilson 
long ago suggested, but there are no facts that are 
conclusive proof of it. And after discounting all 
differences found among nests of the same species, 
we have still remaining in the manufacture of some 
nests, manifestations of skill that no human work- 
man can approach with the same materials. A 
careful examination of the nests of birds will con- 
vince any one that there is given to each species, 
without experience or instruction, a tendency to 
build nests, that arises as spontaneously as hunger 
arises at stated times from waste of tissue. There is 
also animpulse to select certain materials for the dif 
ferent parts of the nest; and thisimpulse is as fixed 
as is the law of growth which gives to the bird a 
certain color or thickness of feather, both of which 


L[ntelligence. 107 


may vary according to the different conditions of | 
the bird. And lastly, there is the skill to combine 
the materials; and this comes by the same sort of 
law as that by which the talons of the bird of prey are 
fitted for their work, or ornaments of color and 
form of feather are so skilfully arranged on birds 
as to challenge the admiration of the greatest mas- 
ters ofart. The perfect form of beak and talon and 
the ornamentation of feathers are the result of 
growth; but because the work of building nests in- 
volves volition, the same sort of wisdom and skill 
are often referred to the bird as would be found in 
a human being who could perform the same work. 
But a human being having Intelligence, that is, the 
power of comprehending the relation of means to 
ends, would be compelled to study and work long 
to gain the knowledge and skill which the bird has 
as an original gift—as it has fine feathers without 
borrowing them and artistic ornaments without la- 
bor orprice. Intelligence, wherever found, has the 
blessed privilege of laboring in order to learn, and 
the condition of enjoyment through learning, never 
ends; but the knowledge and skill of Instinct come 
without effort. There is no joy. in acquiring and 
no basis for self-improvement from Instinct alone. 
The animal doomed to live under the guidance of 
Instinct alone, has its knowledge and skill at the 
appointed time as regularly and as spontaneously 
as hunger or thirst. 

That birds may have a ray of Intelligence we 
shallnot here pretend to deny. When we come to 
trace out the relation of instinctive acts to the 


108 Instinct. 


work of Intelligence, we may be ready to grant to 
some of them a good measure of Intelligence. 
What we wish now especially to controvert, is the 
doctrine that all Instinct is the result of observa- 
tion, either of the present races or of past races, 
from which the fixed habits have been transmitted, 
or that high wisdom and skill manifested in an act, 
are any certain proof of comprehension on the part 
of the actor. 


One of the most conclusive arguments against 
this doctrine, that birds build nests by observa- 
tion or the study of the nest in which they were 
hatched, is found in the habits of the Cow-bird (J/o- 
lothrus pecoris) already referred to. ‘This bird nev- 
er builds a nest at all. The young Cow-birds wake 
to life in all sorts of nests where their mothers de- 
posit their eggs,—in Ground-sparrows’ and Tree- 
sparrows’ nests—in Warblers’ and Vireos’ nests. 
Now according to the observation theory, we ought 
to find these birds building nests; and such nests 
as each one was raised in. But we find Instinct as- 
serting its sway. In the spring time we see hun- 
dreds of these birds in New England congregating 
together—not with the birds in whose nests they 
were hatched. We find them with a note of their 
own and in spite of their opportunity of observa- 
tion and in spite of the care of their foster-parents, 
we see these perverse birds refusing to build nests 
of any kind, but putting out their own young to be 
cared for by other birds, just as their own parents 
did. They follow the habits of their parents, 


Defective Instinct Supplemented. 109 


although they never saw them, and perversely throw 
aside all the instruction of their foster-parents, 
which they enjoyed oftentimes to the detriment 
or destruction of the rightful birdlings of the nest. 


We here observe two things that impress us 
with the blindness as well as certainty with which 
Instinct operates, when performing those works 
which often appear so wise. The Cow-bird simply 
finds a nest, deposits an egg and leaves it to its 
fate. The Instinct of the mother stops there; and 
the whole race of Cow-birds would speedily become 
extinct if this apparently defective Instinct were 
not supplemented by the Instinct of the foster- 
mother that broods upon the egg as though it were 
her own, and then feeds the strange bird hatched from 
it, until it becomes twice her own size, it may be, 
and entirely unlike her own young. Though this 
young intruder often pitches all the rightful occu- 
pants of the nest upon the ground to die, yet the 
foster-mother does not generally detect the imposi- 
tion practised upon her. If her Instinct were not at 
fault there would soon be an end of Cow-birds. But 
if Cow-birds are to exist at all, then the perfection 
and wisdom manifested in the foster-mother’s In- 
stinct consists in the certainty of her being de- 
ceived and thus doing for the Cow-bird the work 
which its parent refused or failed to do for it. 


In a certain sense the nest-building Instinct of: 
birds is connected with the function of producing 
young; but the connection is very remote compared 


‘1IO Instinct. 


with the connection between hunger or thirst and 
the Instinct that enables the animal to satisfy the 
appetites. At the proper time the bird returns, it 
may be from the south, to its proper breeding-place, 
chooses its mate, if that were not done before the 
journey commenced, and in due time commences 
the work of nest building. The peculiar nature of 
Instinct is shown first in this, that the bird builds 
its nest before it is really needed, and also in the 
materials selected, their skilful arrangement and in 
the form and position of the nest; all constant or 
very nearly so, in the same species. 

All the differences that have been pointed out in 
nests of the same species of birds are not greater than 
can be pointed out in the habits of the same species of 
plants, by which, through some law of their growth, 
they adapt themselves to the conditions of the place 
where they chance to grow. We are prepared to say 
then that while we do not deny a degree of Intelli- 
gence, even to birds, we regard their most perfect 
and wonderful works, those often ,eferred to as 
proofs of Intelligence, to be the products of Instinct 
that works by a wisdom of which its possessor has 
no comprehension. 


PEG LURE avs 


SOME MANIFESTATIONS OF HIGHER INSTINCT.— 
RELATION OF INSTINCT TO SPECIAL STRUCT- 
URE AND FUNCTION. 


kelation of the Appetites to the Instincts—Perfection of the work no 
proof of Intelligence in the Actor—Test of Intelligence—Flexi- 
bility of Instinct— The Ampelopsis— The Bean.— The Potato.— 
The Knowledge of Enemies among Fowls—Common defence.— 
Simulation of death—Instinct and Climatic change -—The Mush- 
rat.— The Partridge— Instincts learned from observation alone. 
—Instincts essential to life-—Origin of instinctive powers —Hi- 
bernation.— Difficulties of the Natural Selection Theory.— Special 
Structures.— The Rattle-snake, Bee, Wasp and Hornet.— Rela- 
tion of Instinct to color and form. —Cases cited from Wallace — 
Relation of Instinct to Experience.—Seventeen-year Locusts, 


We have thus far treated of Instinct chiefly as sup- 
plementing structure and function of organs, either 
directly or indirectly. There is a certain function 
of the stomach that produces the sensation of hun- 
ger. Instinct takes up the work and allays this 
craving by supplying the materials that satisfy it,— 
and the materials that satisfy it in each animal are 
the materials fitted to prolong his life and build 
up the body. This chain of means is complete. 
The links all join together—they are links of physi- 
cal necessity, if the animal kingdom is to be kept on 
this globe. In hundreds of kinds of animalsthey are 


112 Instinct. 


as ready to do their appointed work the instant the 
animal bursts from the egg, as they are at any sub- 
sequent period of life, as in the case of the majority 
of insects and fishes that never know a parent’s care. 

It is sometimes said that hunger is instinctive. 
A careful consideration of the activities will show 
this statement to beanabuse of terms. Much con- 
fusion has arisen by confounding the appetites with 
the Instincts or from a misapprehension of their 
relations to each other. The appetites proper, as 
the appetite for food, arise directly from the func- 
tional action of some organ. The functional action 
of the stomach, for instance, producing hunger, 
calls Instinct into play to procure the proper food. 
And this may be said of the appetites, that they 
are the condition for the activity of certain Instincts 
calling them into play to carry out to completion 
the work, towhich the appetites furnish the first im- 
pulse ; that is, the continuance of the individual or 
species. Some of the works that have their origin 
in an impulse of appetite are so complicated that 
they give rise to whole series of acts involving a 
varied and wonderful adaptation of means to ends, 
as is the case among birds in all their work-of rear- 
ing young referred to in the last lecture. But so 
long as the same results are reached by the same 
means by thousands of individuals without experience 
or tnstruction, we have no ground for inferring that 
there 1s comprehension of means and ends in the actor. 
In fact the more complex and perfect the work per- 
formed, provided it 1s performed without instruction 
or chance for experience, the more certain it is that 


Self-adjusting Power. 113 


such work was blindly performed under the control 
of some law of life, as certain in its action, and yet 
as free from wisdom or contrivance in the actor, as 
the growth of organs or the activity of the organs 
when the good of the being demands it. Intelli- 
gence in the actor works by no such uniform meth- 
ods. 

But it is said there is not only adaptation of 
means to ends among animals but such a variation 
of action according to the change of conditions 
as to show comprehension on the part of the actor. 
If there is truly comprehension and specific ac- 
tion in consequence of it, showing that means and 
ends and their relation to each other are all under- 
stood by the actor, then we plainly have intelli- 
gence. Butin many cases there is no proof of com- 
prehension where it is claimed. It seems to be the 
nature of Instinct to vary within certain limits to 
meet the change of conditions in the world around 
it, as the balance-wheel of the watch, made of differ- 
ent metals, adjusts itself to almost continual change 
of temperature so as to give uniform results in the 
movement of the watch. It is the office of Instinct 
to doa certain work to keep the animal in the world. 
To do this it must vary somewhat in its action ac- 
cording to external conditions, but no more,nor in 
a more wonderful manner, than the organs or func- 
tions vary in their activity in both animals and 
plants, to meet the change of conditions in the 
world around them. Doesnot the eye adjust itself 
without Intelligence, to the change of light within 
certain limits? Does not the coat of fur thicken 


114 Instinct. 


upon animals as winter approaches, to be thrown 
off again, without volition, when the warmth of 
spring makes it no longer needful, but a burden? 
Even among plants, we find such change of action 
according to surrounding conditions, that nothing 
would save them from being charged with acting 
by contrivance and forethought, except that they 
are plants. Ifa Woodbine (Ampelopsis quinquefolia) 
can finda support on which it can wind its tendrils, 
it will do so, like the Grape-vine and many other 
climbing plants; but if it can find no such support, 
it will fasten the ends of its tendrils against the 
smooth walls by broad disks and thus hold itself in 
place. This beautiful vine was evidently made to 
climb walls; and within certain limits, its method 
of growth changes to meet the circumstances of the 
case. A bean, which must climb, hunts for a pole 
by causing the terminal bud to describe larger cir- 
cles as the vine lengthens. It will find the pole on 
one side of the hill as well as on the other within 
certain limits,—that is, if the pole is near enough 
for the vine to reach it before its weight brings it 
to the ground. It will,even then, often make a sec- 
ond attempt from its new centre of support. The 
eyes or buds of the potato may be pointed towards 
the centre of the earth, but when the sprouts start 
they will bend and, avoiding all obstacles that op- 
pose them within certain limits, will push their way 
to the light. These anda multitude of other plants 
not only show adaptation of means to ends in 
their mode of growth, but the mode of growth va-. 
ries according to the conditions in which the plant 


fligher Manifestations. 115 


is placed. In the animal kingdom there are just as 
plain cases of variation of method where no com- 
prehension can be fairly inferred, but where it is 
often presumed to be present simply because the 
acts arevoluntary. We have here another illustra- 
tion of the value of a more careful study of plant 
life and the functional changes of the animal king- 
dom to adapt its members to the conditions, of the 
world, in correcting many hasty conclusions and in 
leading us to study the conditions of any act more 
carefully than is generally done, before we refer its 
wisdom or the contrivance manifested by it, to the 
comprehension of the actor. 

We have perhaps sufficiently considered the 
Instincts as ministering to the demands of the ap- 
petites. But there are instinctive acts that have 
no possible relation to the appetites or any function 
of organs, so far as we can see. ‘They arise from 
some power of knowing,or mode of acting, given to 
the animal as its original endowment, such as could 
be gained by man only from experience or instruc- 
tion. The fear of a particular enemy is an exam- 
ple, as the fear of birds of prey by our domestic 
fowls. Fear of danger is an Instinct common to all 
animals as well as man;.and a bird may certainly 
learn by experience, that certain things are danger- 
ous. In all cases where an animal learns by expe- 
rience, there may be a claim set up that there is 
Intelligence; though here there is great need of 
caution, as many cases of apparent learning from 
experience can be fairly brought under that princi- 
ple of Instinct, which we have already explained, 


116 — Instinct. 


by which it varies within certain limits, to meet 
change of condition in the world around it. 

But the peculiar fear which all grain-eating birds 
have of hawks, even when they are seen for the first 
time, is marvellous. The domestic fowls always 
know their enemy,—raise the cry of alarm,—and even 
the young chickens rush to cover. Young birds of 
other kinds, in the nest, unable to fly and as yet 
having no experience of evil, shrink with wild ter- 
ror from a hawk. 

The fact that the fowl knows every bird of prey 
at first sight, as something to be specially dread- 
ed, isathing that marks the manifestation of Instinct 
as peculiar; and for the existence of this peculiar 
terror no rational account can be given, except that 
this instinctive dread is an original endowment of 
the fowl, without which the species would be de- 
stroyed. All attempts to resolve it into habit or 
experience, seem to us to utterly fail, as we shall at- 
tempt to show in a future lecture. It is one of 
the original outfits essential for the preservation 
of the species, and therefore could no more be left 
to experience than the Instinct for selecting food 
could be left to experience. 

There is not only instinctive recognition, by 
the fowl, of the hawk as an enemy, but Instinct 
also makes every fowl a sentinel for all the rest 
of the flock. The first one that sees the enemy 
does not seek its own safety alone, but instantly 
raises the cry of alarm, which all its fellows, even 
the youngest, instantly understand. That note is 
like no other, but it is common to all fowls when 


Fear of Enemies. I17 


the enemy is seen. This peculiar fear, the note of 
warning, the instant recognition of it by all oth- 
ers, and the impulse to hide when the alarm is 
sounded, are, taken together, a perfect adaptation 
of means to ends; such as might be arranged 
among men by agreement. But here we find this 
social machinery in operation at once among all 
fowls. Each one acts its part instinctively, with the 
same precision and certainty as its hunger comes to 
aid in the preservation of its life, or its wings grow 
in the best mechanical form for flying. 

Among grain-eating and insect-eating birds 
there is also a common call or warning note, heeded 
not by one species only but by many, when there 
is common danger from birds of prey. It is not an 
uncommon thing to see hawks chased by several 
kinds of birds at the same time, especially the spar- 
row hawks, that are dangerous to the small birds. 
A most remarkable instance of this united action 
of the different species of birds in protecting each 
other, came under my own observation. A small 
owl was fastened near a house in daytime, and was 
accidentally seen by a robin, that raised the alarm 
of danger. Instantly, from all directions, the note 
was answered, and birds of different kinds were seen 
flying towards the spot. Within five minutes, 
more than fifty birds, representing fourteen differ- 
ent species, were in the tree and doing what they 
could to drive away or torment their common en- 
emy, the owl. 

There are other methods of saving life by in- 
stinctive acts, that are so uniform and yet vary so 


118 Instinct. 


much in details to suit particular cases, that they 
are worthy of study, as parts of that complex ma- 
chinery by which nature provides for her species, so 
that they may have a fair chance in the struggle 
for existence. ; 

The simulating of death isa common instinctive 
act with many animals. If we referred this device 
to any comprehension of means to ends by the ac- 
tor, it would, in its different manifestations, be rank- 
ed with the most adroit cunning among men. But 
the varied conditions under which this instinctive 
act is manifested, forbid our referring it to any thing 
but an original gift, as free from contrivance on the 
part of the actor as is his form or color. The sim- 
ulation of death is common to many of the insect 
tribe and to the Opossum, whose success in the 
trick is so well known as to make his name a by- 

word. We find the same simulation of death among 
the young of some species of mice, so long as they 
are helpless, while the Instinct seems to be lost 
when they are old enough to care for themselves in 
other ways. Before their eyes are open, they will 
go through all the contortions of dying animals, and 
finally put on the perfect semblance of death. 
When we consider the low rank of the Opossum, the 
most successful counterfeiter of death among adult 
vertebrates, and also that this device is most com- 
mon among insects, and is also found among the 
helpless young of some animals, we shall see that 
this apparent cunning and contrivance are sim- 
ply capabilities given to compensate for the want of 
other powers, and that they are the result of spon- 


Climatic Change. 119 


taneous impulse, saving the animal, he knows not 
how. 

There are many instinctive powers ascribed to 
animals the existence of which is not certainly es- 
tablished—as the power of perceiving the change of 
weather. Some animals may possess this power as 
an Instinct, but there is need of more observation 
on the point, before it can be accepted as estab- 
lished. Undoubtedly they are influenced by cli- 
matic change, as men are, and many of them proba- 
bly to a much greater degree; but a careful exam- 
ination may show that many acts now referred to 
Instinct,are simply the result of physical exhilaration 
or depression, through climatic influence, and that 
these are therefore reflex, rather than instinctive, 
acts. Certain it is, that Instinct is not a perfect 
guide in reference to climatic change; for many an- 
imals perish every year because heat or cold, or 
moisture or drought, are more severe than their In- 
stinct had provided for. Under the impulse of the 
Instinct of migration, birds often come north in 
spring to perish by storms of snow and cold, which | 
would not happen if Instinct were the perfect weath- 
er prophet which it sometimes has the credit of 
being. 

It is supposed by some, that the severity of the 
coming winter can be predicted from the character 
of the walls of the houses which the Muskrats build. 
After carefully observing the work of these ani- 
mals for more than twenty-five years, and compar- 
ing the predictions with the results, I cannot be- 
lieve that the Muskrat knows any thing, beforehand, 


120 Instinct. 


of the severity of the winter or the height of the 
coming freshets. He certainly makes serious blun- 
ders. He sometimes builds his house where the 
water leaves it in winter and the frost renders it 
useless. And, again, he builds it where the freshets 
overflow it and compel him to shift for himself 
among the ice and water. The Muskrat provides 
for winter as many other animals do, but the un- 
certainty of the season is a condition which seems 
to be an important element that he has to contend 
with in his struggle for existence. The thickness 
of the walls of his house, according to which the 
severity of winters is predicted, seems to depend 
upon the condition of the weather while the house 
is building, rather than upon any foresight of its 
builder as to the coming winter. As the Muskrat 
cannot control the height of the water, as does his 
cousin the Beaver, he is often compelled to add to 
his house as the water rises and then again as it re- 
treats, while he makes his canals and approaches 
deeper. He is often kept at work upon his house 
till winter closes in. What affects one lodge is like- 
ly to affect all more or less, in the same region ; 
and thus in meeting the exigencies of the case, from 
day to day, these animals have had credit for a fore- 
sight which they do not.possess. 

The safety of all species is that their Instinct 
provides for the average season,—our protection 
against many animals, that is, against their too abun- 
dant increase, is that their Instinct fails to make 
provision against the extremes of seasons. When 
certain insects become abundant, it often happens 


The Partridge. I2I 


that a single season rids us of the pest because their 
Instinct fails to meet the exigency of the case. 
The common Partridge, or Ruffed Grouse of our 
forests, knows how to protect itself from severe 
winter weather by plunging beneath the light snow. 
Its Instinct leads it to take advantage of the non-con- 
ducting power of the snow to sleep in warmth and 
comfort,while the storm is raging above. This act 
is beautiful in its relation to the welfare of the bird, 
and shows that Instinct is here wiser in its action 
than the Intelligence of some men, who perish from 
cold when they might protect themselves perfectly 
with a covering ofsnow. But while the Instinct of 
the Partridge teaches her to protect herself from 
the storm by plunging beneath the snow, it does 
not teach her that the falling snow may turn to 
rain and be succeeded by cold; which sometimes 
happens, so that the poor bird is imprisoned by the 
hard crust, to die of hunger or be dug out by some 
prowling fox that thus finds a Partridge ready trap- 
ped for him. It is not uncommon to find the evi- 
dence of such mistakes of Instinct, or want of in- 
stinctive foresight, in our New England forests late 
in winter. The Instinct of the bird which leads 
her to seek protection in the snow, is upon the 
whole,good. It contributes to the comfort and safe- 
ty of the species, while it sometimes works injury to 
the individual bird. This is another example of 
the great law of nature, that there shall be a con- 
stant struggle for existence—that no individual of 
any species,can be perfectly protected against acci- 
dents and early death; and that Instinct itself, 
6 


122 Instinct. 


which is sometimes called “unerring,’ may be the 
means of destroying its possessor, by the very agen- 
cies which it calls into play to preserve him. 

The power of some animals to find their homes 
when carried from them under such conditions that 
they cannot observe, and even to take a straight 
course towards them, is generally acknowledged. 
It is contended by some that the Carrier Pigeon is 
guided by sight, while others deny it. While we 
believe some animals have this instinctive power, it 
is difficult to determine the facts in the case by ob- 
servation. And if established, they would be only 
one more illustration of the principle already consid- 
ered, that animals have, as an original gift, all 
those powers needed for their mode of life. 

The many points in regard to which we are still 
in doubt respecting the habits of our most common 
animals, show that we still have need of Hubers and 
Wilsons to study every species. . Not only do our 
story books, but our school books,abound in state- 
ments that nature refuses toendorse. And learned 
writers often trust to such unreliable statements, or 
ignore the facts that contradict some favorite defi- 
nition or theory. Fortunately for our purpose, 
there are examples enough to illustrate every point 
we wish to make, that are repeated from year to 
year, so that they can be studied by every careful 
observer. 

In the manifestations of Instinct last considered 
we see evident relation to the welfare of the indi- 
vidual or the species to which it belongs. These 
Instinctive powers give such ability to act as expe- 


Necessity of Observation. 123 


rience might be supposed to give; but the ability 
being needed before it could be gained from expe- 
rience, it appears as part of that outfit with which 
the animal is sent into the world. But the princi- 
ples of action in many of these cases, are of sucha 
nature that there is nothing in the organization of 
the animal to suggest their existence. We learn 
of their existence only by observation. There is 
nothing in the structure of birds to indicate to us 
with any certainty where they will build, or the 
form of their nests. We know that the fowl gives 
the cry of danger at the sight of the hawk, and that 
its young seek cover at the alarm, because we have 
seen the frightened brood thus guided by Instinct. 
We readily see the wisdom of the thing, but it is 
impossible to learn from the structure of the ani- 
mal that it will perform these particular acts, as we 
could infer from the talon and beak of a new spe- 
cies of hawk that it would live on flesh, or from the 
structure of the web-foot that its possessor would 
seek the water. 

Instinets that minister directly to the appetites, 
are common to all animals as an absolute necessity 
to them. They must act promptly, or individuals 
must perish, until the species disappears. 

Instincts that protect animals from their most 
fatal enemies are common to many species, ready 
to spring into action the instant the enemy is per- 
ceived, even for the first time. And such an In- 
stinct seems to be almost as essential to the preser- 
vation of some species, as are the Instincts that 
minister to the appetites, 


124 Instinct. 


It may not be out of place to refer in this con- 
nection, to the bearing of some of the facts thus far 
considered on the origin of these powers which an- 
imals possess, as well as upon the origin of the spe- 
cies themselves. 

If we adopt the theory of transmitted skill 
gained through the experience of previous genera- 
tions, which has much that is plausible in its favor, 
we are forced to the conclusion that there have 
been ancestors of our wild animals of very great 
ingenuity in devising and executing plans, and that 
these ingenious beings have appeared in great num- 
bers among the insects; and we are also troubled 
to see how the species,in many cases, continued 
upon the earth till these ingenious beings appeared 
whose wisdom and contrivance, inherited by their 
descendants, seem now absolutely essential for the 
continuance of the species from one generation to 
another—in many cases, for their continuance for a 
single year. 

If we appeal to Natural Selection, as is now fre- 
quently done, we have indeed a powerful agency 
to work with; but will it do the work we need to 
have done? Natural Selection, granting all that is 
claimed by those who invoke its aid for the solution 
of all problems in regard to the habits and struc- 
ture that characterize species of animals,—Natural 
Selection is simply “ the preserving of the fittest.” It 
does not give a characteristic to any animal, but sim- 
ply preserves him through the agency of some charac- 
teristic which he already possesses. Natural Selec- 
tion does not give to the animal the power to hi- 


Hibernation. 125 


bernate, for instance; but the most it can do, is to 
preserve those animals that already have this pow- 
er in the greatest perfection. But in the conditions 
of hibernation we find an exceedingly complicated 
machinery for the preservation of animal life, vary- 
ing much according to the species. There is a 
chain of agencies of which Instinct is only one link. 
Hibernating animals of the higher rank, feed upon 
food that is abundant in the autumn. ‘Their appe- 
tite is then voracious, and fat accumulates to an un- 
wonted degree. So far, Instinct has no part in the 
work except in the procuring of food. But now it 
comes in as chief actor, to impel and guide the ani- 
mal in preparing a nest or retreat for his winter’s 
sleep. When this is done, function takes up the 
entire work again, lessens the rate of breathing and 
lowers the whole vital activity, so that the animal 
lives for months without eating, and yet comes out 
in good condition when nature has once more 
spread a table for him. Inthe case of other ani- 
mals, especially in the case of some reptiles and in- 
sects, there is complete torpor. But in every case 
we see these agencies, Instinct and Function, work- 
ing together, or rather working in succession, each 
supplementing the other. 

It may be said that cold has a tendency to 
lower vitality, and so by degrees these functional 
changes are produced and the animal, or more strict- 
ly the species, forms a habit which we call Instinct. 
But if we go to certain hot countries where great heat 
and drought are combined, we find animals secre- 
ting themselves by Instinct and becoming torpid in 


126 Instinct. 


summer, as they do with us in winter. The exact 
counterpart of hibernation is there repeated under 
entirely different conditions. Instinct is as perfect 
in its work there as here. Its object in both coun- 
tries is to aid in saving the animal when his food 
fails and the extremes of climate are too severe for 
him. It does its work well; but it would utterly fail 
in both hot and cold countries, if the functions of 
the animals did not supplement it in producing 
those remarkable changes in vital activity, render- 
ing multitudes of animals here torpid in winter, and 
there insummer. Instinct has not only to meet 
these different conditions, but it must vary in both 
places, in many ways, to meet the wants of different 
species of animals. And in this whole work of hi- 
bernation,—if it be proper to apply this term to the 
change that occurs in hot countries,—in all this 
work of hibernation, which is a wonder in itself, we 
find Instinct true to its character as thus far traced, 
as an agency spontaneous in its action supplement- 
ing the physiological agencies, to preserve the indi- 
vidual and species. 

If now we claim that all these hibernating ani- 
mals are what they are because Natural Selection 
has been going on from age to age until only those 
are left that Structure, Function and Instinct all 
combining, have adapted to the conditions of the 
world in the northern regions and under the equator, 
the question still returns, How were the species pre- 
served till these changes in action were all brought 
into harmony with each other and with the world 
without—until adaptations were secured that sin- 


Natural. Selection. 127 


gly or in a long series, seem now essential to the very 
existence of the species ? 

Another question also arises; how were the 
changes which have resulted in these complex adap- 
tations inaugurated? If we refer all these results 
to accidental changes accumulating in the right di- - 
rection, we confess it would be as easy for us to be- 
lieve that the words of a book might be formed in 
order by a series of accidental positions of type 
thrown from a box. If we refer any of these nice 
adjustments to the comprehension and contrivance 
of animals in the first instance, then we are called 
upon to recognize in the ancestors of the present 
races a power of comprehension which these races 
do not now possess—a comprehension equalling 
that power in the best of the human species; for 
no man can claim that he could better adjust these 
activities of the animal with the forces of the inor- 
ganic world, than they are now adjusted. And 
these adjustments were complete as they now are 
before men could understand the work even. 

And it must constantly be borne in mind that 
to explain these results through the agency of Nat- 
ural Selection, we must see how it could secure not 
only all the difference of Instinct that there is in the 
world, by the accumulation of changes all working 
out a specific result, and the difference of form and 
internal structure by like accumulated changes; 
but we must see how it can secure all of these at 
the same time, so as to produce the specific forms 
in their wonderful variety and the specific instincts 
in their complexity, and yet bring structure, func- 


128 Instinct. 


tion and Instinct to harmonize in every one of the 
hundreds of thousands of species,—and each indi- 
‘ vidual, through these combined agencies, into the 
best relations with the world in which it lives. 

In addition to this, before we can accept Natur- 
al Selection as the chief agency in the production 
of species, we must see how all the species were 
kept in existence while those slow changes were 
taking place which now give the species character 
and upon which their existence seems to depend. 
The explanations of the best masters, after giving 
them the benefit of every fact they present, leave 
many, perplexing difficulties, in regard to such re- 
lationships as we have already referred to. The 
problem will become more difficult as we advance. 
Some of its difficulties are well illustrated by the 
examples under the next topic,— 


The Relation of Instinct to spectal structure and 
Junction. 


If we accept Natural Selection as the means of 
securing the special adaptations of instincts and in- 
struments which we see among animals, we must 
grant that in every case, there was at the beginning, 
an instrument and an instinct to use it effectively; 
because an instrument without the corresponding 
instinct would be of no advantage to the animal, 
but a damage. Where we find special structures 
or special functions and corresponding instincts, we 
must grant the co-existence of both and the con- 
joined action of both, before Natural Selection 
could possibly have any influence to preserve either 


The Rattle-Snake. 1209 


of them in the species, or the species themselves 
through their action. 

Without attempting, at this point, to discuss the 
questions that might arise as to the origin of the 
conjoined structure, function and instinct, we pro- 
ceed to call attention to a few facts that illustrate 
the subject, and at least show more fully than has 
thus far been done, the diversity of action of the 
instinctive principle, and also how Instinct supple- 
ments structure and function of organs, in higher 
planes of action than the mere securing of food. 

We take as our first illustration that dreaded 
reptile the Rattle-snake. We here find, first, the 
grooved or perforated fang,—its point sharpened 
like a chisel, on the most approved principles. This 
instrument is folded away when not in use, but un- 
sheathed and in position the instant it is needed. 
As the tooth grew, all the straps and springs need- 
ful for its most effective use grew withit. At its 
base grows a gland secreting a deadly poison; and 
the opening of that gland is through the hollow 
tooth. Whenthe tooth makes its wound, the same 
motion that drives it home, injects the poison. The 
whole machinery is perfect. Structure and function 
both agree in a complicated but perfect manner. 
The result of their combined action, is death to the 
victim. Now-comes in the third element which we 
call Instinct, guiding the voluntary action of the 
snake. The tooth and the poison would have no 
terror for us, were it not that the snake will strike 
and do it effectively without instruction ! 

But the rattle of this reptile is another peculiar 

6* 


130 Instinct. 


contrivance related to its Instinct. The rattle gives 
a note of warning to animals. It is of no apparent 
use to the snake,as it ought to be according to the 
Natural Selection theory; but, on the other hand, it 
is likely to bring death to its possessor by giving 
notice to its enemies of his presence. If the rattle 
is beneficial to the snake, it appears when least need- 
ed, for when the snake is young and most likely to 
be injured by its enemies, it has no rattle. The 
rattles grow as the fangs grow, that make him dan- 
gerous to other animals and to man. We find this 
instrument of warning and the Instinct to use it 
given to this snake that, on account of its great 
numbers and wide distribution, would be exceeding- 
ly dangerous without them. 

In this reptile then we have the perforated tooth 
with all its complicated adjustments, the deadly 
poison to accompany it, the rattle to give warning 
as he becomes dangerous to other animals, and an 
Instinct to bring into effective action all these spe- 
cial structures and functions. 

In the Bee and Wasp and Hornet, we have the 
instrument for defence, the poisonous secretion and 
the Instinct to render them effective. But in the 
Honey-bee, we have much more than these provis- 
ions for defence. Its Instinct leads it to store hon- 
ey for use in winter. We pass now the complicated 
but special apparatus that enables the Bee to gather 
the honey, to consider the conditions that enable 
her to store it. After being gorged with honey, 
she secretes scales of wax under the rings of the 
body. This substance, essential to the economy of 


Bees—Wasps—Ffornets. Ei 


the bee-hive, is not produced by any work of In- 
stinct but by a peculiar function of the body. 
Those scales of wax the Bee softens, undoubtedly, 
by another peculiar secretion; and then fashions 
them into a cell that has challenged the admiration 
of the world. 

Let us trace this process through. There is an 
Instinct for gathering honey and, answering to it, 
an instrument just fitted for drawing it up from the 
nectaries of flowers. There is also a sack for hold- 
ing it and for producing certain changes in it. 
There is an Instinct for storing this honey and a 
substance secreted that can be molded into cells to 
hold it. There are instruments given for using the 
substance to the best possible advantage, and In- 
stinct to guide in the best use of both instruments 
and the substance. Instinct comes in at the proper 
place to link all these agencies together. Let a 
single link be wanting and all other parts of the 
chain are useless as a means of preserving the spe- 
cies. And complicated as this whole process is, it is 
only a part of the connected series of functional and 
instinctive adjustments absolutely essential to Hon- 
ey-bee life, as the species now exists. 

Among the Wasps and Hornets that build nests 
and cells of woody fibre, we might trace out the re- 
lation of Instinct to structure and function, showing 
results almost as curious as those already consider- 
ed. In fact, instances almost without number can 
be given in every department of the animal king- 
dom where structure and function, either separately 
or combined, are joined with an Instinct that gives 


132 Instinct. 


them their whole value in securing the welfare of 
their possessor. 

Among spiders we find, perhaps, the best il- 
lustrations of the great diversity of the results pro- 
duced by the joint action of these three agencies, 
in animals very nearly allied. A whole lecture 
might be given in showing the varied uses to which 
different species of spiders put this web-making se- 
cretion which is common to nearly the whole spider 
tribe. We have webs of a multitude of forms— 
fine threads, as treacherous snares—curious nests 
lined with satin, and homes beneath the water; be- 
sides sacks and covers, from the thinness of gauze 
to the thickness of paper, to protect their eggs and 
young. The problem does not seem to be; In how 
few ways can Instinct avail itself of function to pro- 
vide for the family of spiders? but rather, In how 
great a multiplicity of methods ?—as though diver- 
sity were the object aimed at; and yet each meth- 
od would challenge our admiration, if all spiders in 
the world were found using that alone. 


In this connection we cannot fail to notice the 
relation of Instinct to form and color. 

It is well known that many wild animals corres- 
pond in color very closely to the coloring of the 
earth and herbage where they live. Among the 
higher animals, especially among birds, every care- 
ful observer has noticed that many of them seek 
those places where their colors will best harmonize 
with the surrounding objects. The Grouse, already 
referred to, so closely resembles in color the with- 


Color and Form. 133 


ered leaves among which she places her nest, that 
the keenest eye seldom discoversher. Though one 
of the wildest of birds, she settles herself upon the 
nest and seems to trust in the deceiving power of 
her feathers, and so remains quiet until the foot of 
the intruder is almost upon her. 

The Ptarmigan Grouse of Greenland and the 
Sage-hen of our Rocky Mountains are both beauti- 
ful examples of what the united action of color and 
Instinct can do to protect the bird. I have fre- 
quently seen both of these birds light, and yet have 
been entirely unable to distinguish them from the 
surrounding vegetation until some movement of 
the bird aided the eye. There is also change of 
color from summer to winter and the instincts of 
the animal are in harmony with these changes for 
its welfare. 

But it is among insects that this correllation 
between form and color and Instinct, is most readi- 
ly observed and most wonderful. There are insects 
that simulate leaves so closely that they deceive 
careful observers. Mr. Wallace gives an interesting 
account* of insects that imitate, in their structure 
and color, decaying and diseased leaves. And In- 
stinct here aids in the work of deception; for these 
insects fasten themselves upon limbs in such places 
and in such positions as withered leaves would nat- 
urally be found in. A spidert is also found, accord- 
ing to the same author, that resembles a bud in 
appearance, and his natural place of concealment is 


* « Natural Selection,” pp. 59-61. + Ib. p. 99. 


134 Instinct. 


in the axil of a leaf, just where a bud would be 
found. 

But every observer of our own insects has seen 
among them examples of this correllation of In- 
stinct with form and color.. Some of our caterpil- 
lars have the color and form of short sticks. They, 
in case of danger, fasten themselves upon a limb 
and extend the body so that men and birds are 
both deceived; so completely do color, form and 
position mimic a dry stub upon the bush. The cu- 
rious thing is, no matter now how it has been se- 
cured, that Instinct should come in among butter- 
flies, spiders, caterpillars and hosts of other animals 
to complete the work of deception, which is begun 
by color and form, simulating the common appear- 
ance of leaves in all their changes and flowers and 
buds and sticks. 


In every step that we have taken in this investi- 
gation, we have found Instinct becoming a part of 
amore complex system of agencies, but still filling 
a place which function of organs alone could not 
possibly fill—securing results that might be obtain- 
ed through experience and instruction by some an- 
imals if there were any way to provide for the con- 
tinuance of the race of animals until experience 
could be gained. But in the case of those animals 
that could possibly learn by experience, something 
must go before it. There must be impulse and so 
much of guidance as to preserve the animal till ex- 
perience can come to his rescue. But with many 
animals knowledge from experience is impossible, 


Seventeen-year Locust. 135 


because there is occasion for performing the most 
important acts only once ina lifetime, and that too 
under such conditions as to make it impossible that 
the actors should learn from others. In such cases 
we find Instinct ever ready to do its work—a work 
sometimes so complex as to require careful study 
on the part of man to understand it. This point 
can perhaps be made plain by a single illustration. 
The Cicada or Seventeen-year Locust isso called 
because it appears only once in seventeen years. 
The insects deposit their eggs in the limbs of trees 
and die. The young grubs find their way to the 
earth and there mine in the dark for seventeen 
years, when they come forth for their few days of 
life in the sunlight. When they come out they 
are to deposit their eggs and do all the work which 
their ancestors did seventeen years before. They 
do the work but once ina lifetime, but every move- 
ment goes on in perfect order, as though experience 
and instruction both had done their perfect work 
on beings capable of comprehension. They copy 
exactly the work done by their ancestors seventeen 
years before, when they themselves existed only in 
the eggs. 

We have thus far found Instinct as meeting the 
demands of appetite—as protecting its possessor 
from special enemies, and as taking its place, with 
color and form and function, as a higher agency for 
preserving the life of the individual and the species. 
We have found nothing yet to indicate that it is an 
entity, a thing by itself, as it is often represented to 
be,—a possession which animals have in common. 


136 Instinct. 


It seems rather to consist of a summation of spon- 
taneous activities which animals possess in different 
measure and of different kinds, according to the 


sphere they are to occupy. 


we 


LECTURE VI. 


INSTINCT FOR COMMUNITIES OF ANIMALS.—ITS 
RELATION TO THE DOCTRINE OF NATURAL SE- 
LECTION. 


Illustrations of the Community System.— The Cow-bird.— Three kinds 
belonging to the same species—Necessity for slaves among Ants.— 
The brood or annual flock.— Permanent organization.—Leaders.— 
Sentinels—Pelicans of Utah Lake—The Beaver—Morgan’s 
Work.—The Rank of the Beaver—The Muskrat.— Variation of 
Instinct necessary.—Complexity of work no proof of Intelligence.— 
Consideration of theories —Accumulated work of Intelligence. —In- 
stinct like tt, in effect— The Honey-bee—Bumble-bees and Wasps.— 
Slave-Ants—Darwin’s Explanation.—Di ficulties —Natural Se- 
lection and Variation not sufficient— Wallace on Natural Selec- 
tion applied to man. 





IN almost every manifestation of Instinct thus far 
introduced, the act has been one for the preserva- 
tion of the individual or species, but such as the in- 
dividual could perform for itself. A single pair at 
most, caring for their young, in all their instinctive 
acts would represent not only so many individuals 
but the species as a whole. | 

We began, however, to see the introduction of 
another principle, when we found adults uniting in 
action to aid each other; one species of birds even 
calling to their aid others, of different species, against 
a common enemy. And when we found a system 
of instinctive acts, by which alarm-notes are sounded 


138 Instinct. 


by birds for the benefit of their fellows, and safety 
thus secured to the flock, we began to see the 
community system, which prevails extensively in 
the animal kingdom and gives rise to very distinct 
and complex manifestations of Instinct. 

When the community system becomes promi- 
nent, a single animal, or a single pair, often be- 
comes a very imperfect representative of the spe- 
cies, if we wish to study the whole work of Instinct. 
Individuality is lost in the machinery of the com- 
munity. And so far does this system prevail among 
some species, that a single male and female cannot 
possibly care for their young. In more than one 
case the species could not possibly exist without the 
aid of individuals from other species. In such cases, 
the dependent species have an Instinct to secure 
the services of other laborers and thus supplement 
their own defects. 

In the case of the Cow-bird, already referred to, 
the species would perish were it not for the work 
of other birds in hatching and feeding the young 
Cow-bird. But so far as we can judge, this defect- 
ive care of the Cow-bird for her offspring arises en- 
tirely from the action of its Instinct,—defective ac- 
tion when taken by itself, but effective when we 
consider its relation to the Instinct of other birds 
whose work it secures. We see nothing in the or- 
ganization of the bird to prevent it from nesting 
and rearing its brood like other birds. But lower 
in the scale of being, we find three kinds of animals 
belonging to the same species—the males, females 
and neuters—all needful for carrying on the work 


Flocks. 139 


of life. And in some communities of Ants, the in 
dividuals of another species are needed to make the 
system perfect. That is, the first species could not 
exist at all were it not that their Instinct enables 
them to supplement their own defects by making 
slaves of individuals from other species able to do 
their work for them. Weannounced in the begin- 
ning of these lectures that we should make no at- 
tempt to collect and rehearse the wonders of In- 
stinct. Our object is to bring up for consideration 
those examples of instinctive action known to,every 
Naturalist, or such as all persons may see if they 
choose to. We are therefore compelled to refer 
briefly to points that might be illustrated by many 
examples. 

There are among animals certain instincts that 
either grow out of the relation of the sexes or are 
indirectly connected with it. Thus we have the 
flock or brood for a single season, or so long as the 
young need the parents’ care. This Instinct is an 
entirely different thing from that which prevails in 
the community proper, which ministers to the good 
both of the individual and of the species, not 
through any relation of the sexes or of parents to 
their young necessarily, but by the organization of 
a complex community of adults that may have no 
relationship to each other except that they belong 
to the same species. The simplest form of such 
communities is found among common birds and 
beasts that associate in flocks. These, as Sheep, 
Antelopes, Crows and Pigeons, might do very well 
as individuals; and a single pair can, not only, care 


140 Instinct. 


for their young without aid from others, but at the 
time of rearing young, the flock is generally broken 
up, each pair caring for its own. It is after the 
breeding season is over and the young are able to 
shift for themselves, that flocks and herds are form- 
ed among many of the social birds and beasts. 
This may, in some cases, be done simply from love 
of society. Here the work of Instinct seems to be 
simply to increase enjoyment. But in very many 
cases, perhaps ultimately in all, there is a certain 
organization of the flock; and that organization 
is made in some way subservient to the welfare of 
the individuals, as such. The most simple case of 
united action, is in followinga leader. There seems 
to be, in flocks of animals of various kinds, some in- 
dividual that leads either in migration or in de- 
fence. This leader is generally the most powerful . 
male of the flock. But another advantage to the 
individual, from the flock organization, is seen in 
the selection of sentinels, that are posted to give 
warning, while the others feed. Among common 
fowls, each one is ready to give warning of danger; 
but among many wild animals there is often codp- 
eration according to a system, and a very excellent 
system too. Crows and Pigeons may be seen watch- 
ing upon the trees, while their fellows feed in the 
meadow. At the approach of danger, these senti- 
nels raise the alarm which is the signal understood 
by every one of their mates. Those that watch in 
the beginning, are from time to time relieved, while 
others mount guard in their places. It is impossi- 
ble to tell how it is arranged, that the distribution 


Care of Young. I4I . 


of labor shall be just; but acareful watching of the 
flocks, shows that there is a HateeulaL system for 
change of sentinels. 

Major Stansbury* gives us an account of the 
young Pelicans at Utah Lake being watched over 
by one old Pelican, while the others were engaged 
in fishing. Each sentinel or guard, was regularly 
relieved, in turn, by another taking her place. 
Here the community system was introduced among 
these birds for the purpose of caring for their young. 
But as he found one old Pelican, though blirid and 
unable to fish for himself, still sleek and apparently 
well cared for by his fellows, it is fair to infer that 
the community system, among these birds, secures 
to some extent, mutual aid among adults. 

I have myself seen something of this communi- 
ty of action, in the care of young, among the Arctic 
Tern on the coast of Greenland. One little grassy 
island, that I had the opportunity of watching for 
eight days, was entirely occupied by Tern. They 
made no nests, but deposited their eggs among the 
grass. The island fairly swarmed with their young, 
from those just out of the shell to those of full size, 
ready to fly. The old birds made common cause 
against any intruder; and it was settled by obser- 
vation, that they did not always feed their own 
young. Three different adults were seen feeding 
the same young bird that had been placed upon a 
rock by himself. All the young seemed to be well 
cared for; but how the favors of the old birds were 


* Ex. Doc., No. 3 Senate, Sp. Sess, 1851. 


142 Instinct. 


properly distributed, among such a scrambling mul- 
titude of young, is a mystery. 

Asa farther illustration of the advantage to the 
individual, from the community, we have animals 
that build together and enter upon extensive works 
for the common good. The Beaver is generally con- 
sidered as the best example of animals of this kind, 
—at least among the vertebrates. There is hardly 
an animal on the globe that offers more curious 
instinctive habits for study; and hardly one that 
has been more misrepresented in our popular works. 
The wonderful instincts of the Beaver, make up an 
interesting part of those story books where fact and 
fiction are mingled together; though the facts, if 
fully stated, would be more wonderful than any 
fiction. 

The world is indebted to Mr. Lewis H. Morgan, 
of New York, for a work on the Beaver, that isa 
model for all to study, who would investigate the 
habits of any animal. He has swept away a mass 
of rubbish that we used to be taught; and has sub- 
stituted in its place the plain facts gathered by 
years of personal observation among Beaver-dams 
and lodges. He not only describes what he has 
seen, but he brings before us copies of Beavers’ 
works, by photographing them as they are found. 

His facts are reliable—his speculations based 
upon those facts may, of course, be accepted or re- 
jected by any one, according to his estimate of the 
proof presented to establish each point. 

Mr. Morgan grants that the Beaver is a social 
animal, but he denies that Beavers work as organ- 


The Beaver. 143 


ized colonies, as it has generally been supposed 
they do. He seems to think that they work as 
families; but that each family is quite distinct in all 
its works from every other family around the pond. 
He supposes that a Beaver-dam is generally begun 
by a single pair, and that it grows by the labors of 
all the Beavers inhabiting the pond in after years; 
but that each Beaver works by himself, in making 
the additions or repairs, except where a great inju- 
ry calls many to work at the same time. Then 
they do not come as an organization under leaders, 
but each does the best he can. He certainly 
makes out a very clear case of the community sys- 
tem, so far as the inmates of a single lodge are con- 
cerned ;—and the impression is left on some minds 
that there is something like concerted action on 
the part of all the families, inhabiting a pond, for 
the preservation of the dam. Certain it is, that 
members of each lodge do their part of the work, 
whether they do it in concert with the others or 
not; and they do it in such a manner that the re- 
sult is the same as that of organized action. We 
find dams, and lodges, and burrows for escape. 
There is a straight entrance to the lodge for the in- 
troducing of wood, and an abrupt entrance with 
winding channels, for the escape ofthe occupants, 
in case of danger. There is the cutting of timber, 
sometimes of trees two feet in diameter. Wood is 
stored up beneath the waters for winter food; but 
how it is kept under the water, no one can yet tell 
with certainty. The refuse wood, after the bark is 
removed, is preserved for repairing the lodges and 


144 Instinct. 


dams. In fact, the whole social economy of a Bea- 
ver colony, is as perfect as though they worked by 
an organization like that of the hive-bee; and the 


facts as detailed by Mr. Morgan, are certainly as | 


wonderful as any fictitious story of Beaver sagacity 
ever printed. When we read the book we wish 
that every animal had such a historian; that we 
might know something more of this world of ours 
than we do, and have reliable materials when we 
wish to investigate any question respecting the 
habits of the beings around us. 

But when our author begins to speculate in re- 
gard to the mental powers of the Beaver, we feel 
called upon to dissent from many of his conclusions, 
while accepting ‘the facts that he uses, as estab- 
lished. 

After acknowledging that the Beaver stands very 
low in his physical organization, he ranks him very 
high in Intelligence, on account of the complexity 
of his works and their adaptation to his wants. 
And by intelligence here is meant simply the pow- 
er in the actor, of comprehending means as securing 
an end desirable and good for himself, in all his re- 
lations; in distinction from that voluntary action 
that secures the same kind of good for the actor, 
where comprehension on his part, is plainly out of 
the question. The same course of reasoning, by 
which the power of comprehension is ascribed to 
the Beaver, on account of the complexity of his 
works and their adaptation to his wants, would 
place the Honey-bee high in the scale of free intel- 
ligence. There is, indeed, more variation in the 


lh si 


Uniformity of the work. - 145 


work of the Beaver to meet different conditions of 
life, than the Honey-bee is called upon to exhibit. 
But the uniformity, with which Beavers do their 
work in any given place, and their uniform change 
of method under different conditions, seem to point 
to that variation of the instinctive principle, to 
which we have already referred, rather than to free 
intelligence,—a variation no greater than is found 
even in the growth of plants, to adapt them to dif- 
ferent conditions of life, but which, because in ani- 
mals it is connected with volition, is very,likely to 
be regarded asa sufficient proof of comprehension in 
the actor. 

The Muskrat, which is nearly allied to the Bea- 
ver, has the same sort of variation in his habits to 
meet the conditions where he is placed. But the 
variation is so uniform that the animal is plainly 
under some guiding power which isto him a law of 
action. Muskrats, whose ancestors have for gener- 
ations burrowed in the banks of the stream, will at 
once begin to build houses, if a dam is raised so 
that they can no longer burrow. And those houses 
will be built like all other Muskrat houses,the world 
over. That is, there will be that generic likeness 
which shows that the lodge is built under the im- 
pulse and guidance of some principle entirely dif- 
ferent from the power of comprehension and con- 
trivance, seen among men. Since it is impossible 
that all animals of the same species should find 
places exactly alike to build in, the impulse and 
guidance, which for a better name we call Instinct, 


would be folly itself, if it did not vary sufficientl 
| 


146 Instinct. 


to meet the conditions of the case, under all ordi- 
nary circumstances. Therefore on the theory that 
Beaversare guided by an Instinct that directs with- 
out intelligent comprehension,on their part,of means 
and ends, it is not strange that their houses grow 
thicker and larger as they grow older; and that 
repairs and changes are made asthe number of occu- 
pants increase. The uniformity in the character 
of their work, under similar conditions, is certainly 
in favor of the theory of guidance by Instinct. 
And the very complexity of the works, upon which 
Mr. Morgan bases his argument for the high rank 
of the beaver in free, self-conscious Intelligence, we 
regard as an argument against it, because we have 
complexity with such uniformity. In proving In- 
telligence to be the controlling agency in contriving 
and carrying out all these complex works, he 
seems to prove too much. For if we refer all the 
works of the Beaver to Intelligence, of the same 
kind as man possesses, we must concede to him 
abilities very nearly, if not quite equal to those of 
man, for planning such works. For he would bea 
wise man that, having only the Beaver’s instruments 
to work with, could do his work. In fact all his 
works, that we do understand, we approve of as the 
best that could be done, even by us, to reach the 
same ends; and he does some things that the wisest 
man does not yet know how to do. There is com- 
plexity and uniformity under similar conditions, 
—variation in the work of the whole species when 
the circumstances demand it, and yet under all these 
conditions, a uniform method of adapting means to 


Question of Origin. 147 


ends in the best manner. If all this comes from 
Intelligence in the actor, he is certainly of high 
rank. 

Among all the animals thus far mentioned, the 
community might be considered an entirely acci- 
dental thing; though in this case, the organization 
of the community, manifested in the appointment 
of sentinels and the notes of alarm, must be consid- 
ered the complicated mechanism of Instinct in 
many, working together for the good of the indi- 
viduals composing the community; or, if “the or- 
ganization be regarded as the outgrowth of expe- 
rience and the result of contrivance to meet the 
exigencies of the community, we must be ready to 
concede to all these animals as well as to the Bea- 
ver, a high degree of Intelligence and the power of 
adapting means to ends as perfectly as is ever done 
among men for such purposes; and we must also grant 
them high powers of generalization and induction 
and as plain principles of prudence, as men ordina- 
rily manifest. Nor does it change the question to 
say that this provision made by flocks is now me-. 
chanical, but the result of habits acquired gradual- 
ly long ago under conditions of danger and need. 
If there is found among any species of social ani- 
mals an organization by which, as a community, 
they are provided for or guarded against danger by 
sentinels and signals, which can be referred to their 
Intelligence at all, as asystem marked out by them 
from the comprehension and adoption of a plan, 
then that plan was worked out by the flock which 
we see before us, or it was worked out by some in- 


148 Instinct. 


dividual of that flock and impressed upon the oth- 
ers by a system of instruction, or it was worked out 
at some time,by some ancestors of the present flock, 
and continued till it became a habit of the whole 
species to operate according to this plan. A thing 
must be done for the first time before it can become 
a habit; and it must be often repeated, before it 
can become a habit for the individual even; and 
much longer before the habit could become heredi- 
tary, ifat all. So that the doctrine that Instinct 
is formed through the influence of the experiences 
and habits of ancestors, only removes the difficulty 
one step farther back. Nor does it change the 
matter to say that the result we now see is the ef- 
fect of minute changes brought about through 
great cycles. Each change was a step, and when 
the process was complete through many steps, it 
represented the same powers. in the sfecizes as 
though the steps had been taken in a generation. 
' A’ cotton-mill is the result of great experience con- 
tinued through many generations of men; and it 
also represents the contrivance of hosts of men in 
the present and past ages to meet the wants which 
experience suggested. But the cotton-mill to day, 
is as truly a product of human thought, as though 
the present generation had built one now for the 
first time. And the first machine invented showed 
the same kind of power in the inventor as the last 
and most complicated. So we say that these 
manifestations of Instinct among social animals, 
taken as a whole, or divided into the greatest num- 
ber of steps possible, must be the result of impulse 


Communities. - 149 


and guidance given to animals just as we now see 
them manifested, or they show the same high pow- 
ers in kind, in the animal, as the man possesses who 
studies them and approves of them as the perfec- 
tion of wisdom for the individual animal and the 
flock. 

But we now come to consider certain social ani- 
mals that cannot exist, except as communities. 
There is, in some species, such difference in struc- 
ture and function and Instinct in individuals of the 
same communities, that there is a division “of labor 
marked out and made necessary by the very nature 
of these individuals. The peculiarities found in 
some species that make the organization of the com- 
munity most efficient, are destructive to isolated 
individual life. 

Of such animals, the Honey-bee is a good ex- 
- ample and the best known. We have in this spe- 
cies, the Queen-mother, the drones or males, and 
the workers; in the latter of which there is no 
power of reproduction. Without the Queen-moth- 
er there could be no continuance of the species, as 
she alone produces all the eggs for the swarming 
hive. The Queen and the drone, it would seem, 
would alone be sufficient to secure the continuance 
of the species. But not so; for they do not even 
collect honey for themselves, to say nothing of 
their numerous progeny. To complete the organ- 
ization of the hive, there must be another class, the 
workers, which shall collect food and do all the 
work of building for themselves, the Queen and 
young. The conditions for an organized commu- 


150 Instinct. 


nity are now complete. The great mass of individ- 
uals in the hive, gain their reputation for industry 
by working for the common good,—for Queen and 
drone and young,—as well as for themselves. And 
to this complicated organization, the instincts of 
each individual are adjusted, so that each performs 
its part, as each organ of the body performs its of- 
fice,or each official would perform his part in a per- 
fectly organized kingdom. 

Among Bumble-bees and Wasps we find differ- 
ent kinds of individuals in the same community 
as in the Honey-bee hive, but these communities 
continue only a single season. ‘The fertile females 
alone survive the rigors of winter, while the multi- 
tude die and the old nests are deserted never again 
to be inhabited. These mothers, that are to preserve 
the species, hide away in secure resting-places, till 
spring calls them forth to commence alone the 
founding of new colonies. 

Different species of the common Ant, as well 
as the so called White Ant, afford marked illustra- 
tions of this diversity of structure, function and In- 
stinct in members of the same species, for the good 
of the community. 

It has been known since the time of Huber the 
younger, that some species of Ants make slaves of 
the neuters of other species. The Red Ants of 
Europe (Formica rufescens) not only make slaves 
of the Brown Ants (Formzca fusca), but are entirely 
dependent upon them, being utterly unable to take 
care of themselves. We here see a need so imper- 
ative that this whole species of Ants would die in 


Darwin's Theory. Loi 


a single year without the Instinct of making slaves ; 
and what would their slaves be worth if they had 
not the Instinct to do the work? And yet they 
are always fresh importations and, being neuters, 
have no power to reproduce their kind and trans- 
mit the habit of being a slave, as an Instinct. 

Darwin has acknowledged all these facts in his 
work on the origin of species.* With his accus- 
tomed thoroughness, he set himself to verify the 
statements of other Entomologists by his own ob- 
servations. After satisfying himself of the facts, he 
goes resolutely at work to make this state of things 
appear consistent with his theory; though he con- 
fesses that at first it seemed fatal to it. Aftera 
careful examination of his arguments to show that 
all these differences might have been secured by Nat- 
ural Selection, we are compelled to say that not only 
does he seem to fail in fairly meeting the objections 
that he himself acknowledges to lie against his 
theory, in these phenomena of social insects, but 
many more objections and more perplexing, must 
arise in the mind of every naturalist who has so far 
studied the facts in the case, as to be able to fairly 
bring them to the test of Mr. Darwin’s theory; or 
rather to test the theory by them. 

Mr. Darwin thinks the wonderful Instinct of the 
Honey-bee, by which it builds cells that he ac- 
knowledges could not be improved upon, might be 
accounted for in this way.t The making of wax 
takes a great deal of honey; and so it would come 


* “ Origin of Species,” 5th Am, Ed., pp. 225-282. 
+ Ibid., pp. 2238, 224. 


152 Instinct. 


to pass that those swarms of bees which build with 
the least wax, would have most honey left for win- 
ter, and so be most likely to live. The best build- 
ers would in this way, be preserved, while all the 
poor builders would, in time, die off. 

Here it will be observed that the theory does 
not go back far enough to account for the whole 
case. At most, it simply offers an explanation 
of the preservation of those swarms made up of 
the best builders. But we want to know ow 
the bee became a builder at all? and how the In- 
stinct to build cells and the function of secreting 
wax fitted for the work, began together; and how 
the Honey-bee got along before it had either the 
function or the Instinct, both of which now seem 
essential to its very existence? Then we have also 
to observe that it is the neuter bees that secrete 
the wax and build the cells; and since these neuter 
bees are sterile, the characteristics they possess and 
the skill they acquire, cannot be transmitted. All 
the bees that build cells and gather honey, have de- 
scended for thousands of years, at least, from pa- 
rents that never did any thing of the kind. 

Now this, Mr. Darwin would probably say, is a 
case of correlation.* That is, it is true the parents 
do not do these things, but these powers of the 
neuters are so correlated to the needs of the com- 
munity, that the whole species become good builders 
by Natural Selection, because those swarms alone 
are preserved where such neuters are produced as get — 
along with little wax and consequently with little 


* “Origin of Species,” 5th Am. Ed., pp. 227, 228. 


Selection T, heory applied. 153 


loss of honey. He makes his explanation of the 
existence of the Instinct that constructs hexagonal 
cells, all turn on the fact that the bees must live 
over the winter. 

But let us consider the work of the Wasps in 
the light ofthis theory. They do not.use up honey 
in making their cells, and they do not live over the 
winter, so that Natural Selection has no chance to 
preserve the best builders through any such means 
as might be urged in the case of the Honey-bee. 
The Wasps perish every fall, excepting a féw fertile 
females that desert the nest and live in some hiding- 
place, as we have before explained, to commence 
the new colonies the next year; and yet several 
species of Wasps and Hornets build six-sided cells, 
like the Honey-bee. 

There is nothing here that aids at all, in the 
selection theory, even as Mr. Darwin has attempted 
toapply it to the Honey-bee.* Both of the means 
through which he attempts to show that Natural 
Selection acts in saving skilful builders,—the saving 
of honey in making cells of the best pattern and 
the necessity of the honey so saved, for winter use, 
—are here wanting; and yet the Wasps are as skil- 
ful mathematicians as though the existence of the 
species depended upon the angle of the cell! 

The plain truth is, we have Bees and Wasps 
building in many different ways. Each method is 
connected with a peculiar structure and a whole 
train of Instincts. Besides, the whole doctrine of 
‘correlation, that seems to be solely relied upon to 


* « Origin of Species,” 5th Am. Ed., pp. 223, 224. 


154 Instinct. 


explain the perfection of the different kinds of in- 
_ sects found in such communities as we have described, 
has no sort of application to the slave Ants. They 
do their work perfectly, supplementing the defect- 
ive organization and Instincts of their masters; but 
they are neuters, and never reproduce their kind! 
and the communities from which they are stolen can- 
not be affected in any way by the stealing of their 
young, so as to cause them to produce this remark- 
able set of slaves just fitted in structure and Instinct 
to do the work which their captors must have done 
for them, in order to live. 

While acknowledging the powerful influence of 
Natural Selection in preserving the fittest, if we 
were called upon to work out a problem in creation 
that should make the belief in the origin of species 
by Natural Selection impossible, we should be un- 
able to suggest a single change in the relation of 
the social insects as a whole, that would make a 
stronger case against such an origin of the species 
than we have in the relations now existing in many 
of the communities already considered. ‘These re- 
lations seem to us more opposed to the theory of 
origin of species through selection, than any thing 
found in the physical organization of man even; 
and in reference to the human species, Mr. Wallace, 
one of the originators of the theory, acknowledges 
that it fails to satisfy him fully.* t 

There is no dispute about the facts—no dispute 
about the fact of variation, no dispute about the 
important influence of Natural Selection. But that 


* “ Natural Selection,” pp. 382-850. 


Accidental Variation. 155 


any given result in animal life, such as is seen in 
the complex societies of social insects, can be accom- 
plished by these agencies working even for untold 
ages, does not follow. Some results may follow, 
but they must be such as these agencies have some 
competency to produce; and we must have some 
reasonable account of the orzg7z of certain elements 
of the animal economy, as well as of their modifi- 
cation. But it is asked at once, Ifyou grant “‘acci- 
dental variation” “and indefinite periods of time for 
the work of selection, have you not the €lements 
of working out any supposable result ? Weanswer, 
No. We can understand that a painter by throw- 
ing his sponge, in anger or desperation, upon his 
picture, might accidentally paint the foam upon the 
mouth of the dog with a naturalness that his*pencil 
had failed to give. We can believe that this has 
beendone. But nowifwe were told that a picture, 
like one of Landseer’s or Rosa Bonheur’s, could be 
made by throwing paint sponges against a canvas 
an indefinite number of times, we should not be- 
lieve it; even if the experiment could be tried every 
day for millions of years. And although we can 








* We use the words “ accidental variation,’ to signify any 
change that may occur in an organic being under new condi- 
tions—any change not specially provided for in his plan of de- 
velopment—any change by which individuals depart from the 
normal type of the species. It is in this way that we under- 
stood Mr. Darwin to use the words, and in the same way, we 
understand Mr. Wright to use them, in his defence of Darwin, 
written since these Lectures were delivered. (North Am. Rev., 
July 1871.) No one who understands Mr. Darwin, would accuse 
him of using the word “accidental” in any such sense as to ~* 
imply any denial of causality. 


156 Instinct. 


readily believe that type might be so thrown by 
accident as to form a word, we could not on that 
account believe that a single page could be printed 
in that way, making an intelligent story, even if the 
experiment could be tried every day for a geolog- 
ic age. If it is said we ought to believe in such 
results, from the elements of variation and indefi- 
nite time, we cannot help it. We are satisfied that 
with the same data to rely upon, all men will not 
reach the same conclusions. Itis possible that this 
may be partly the result of training, and it may 
arise from a constitutional difference among men 
in weighing proof. Probably we shall have to wait 
a long time for Natural Selection to give usa race 
of men, who shall have powers of observation and 
reasoning so nearly alike, that they shall all reach 
the same results on such subjects. In the mean 
time, it becomes every one, who treats of such sub- 
jects at all, to make sure of his facts, to meekly fol- 
low any theory sustained by the facts, and resolute- 
ly oppose any, that seems to him inconsistent with 
them. 


EEGUCU REVIT: 


INSTINCT CONNECTED WITH THE PARENTAL RELA- 
TION.—AS DEMANDING CERTAIN CHANGES IN 
OTHER ANIMALS AND PLANTS.—AS A LAW FOR 
THE ANIMAL.—AS SUBJECT TO VARIATION. 


Effect of Parental Instinct—Completes its course —Disturbed by 
Domestication —Answering Instinct of the young —Correlation 
of the three kingdoms of Nature —fHibernation—Gall_flies.—Ich- 
neumon-flies, — Bot-fly. — Tent-moth, — Oak-pruners. — Borer.— 
Preservation of the fittest— Instinct as a Law.— Uniformity 
among Animals.—FPeriodicity and Self-regulating power of the 
A ppetites—Instinct can be deceived.—Follows the impression of the 
senses.— Variation of Instinct—Production of varieties —Defini- 
tion of an Instinct, and of Instinct as a general term. 


WE have already referred, incidentally, to some of 
the manifestations of Instinct connected with the 
parental relation. But there is in this relation, so 
much of antagonism to common instincts, as to 
make it worthy of separate consideration. 

In many cases, the character of the animal, 
while it has young, seems to be entirely changed. 
Often the most timid animals become brave in de- 
fence of their offspring, and the welfare of the indi- 
vidual is sacrificed for the good of the species. We 
may announce it as the general law of all the in- 
stincts connected with the reproduction of young, 
that they are exercised at the expense of the indi- 


158 Instinct. 


vidual. Inthe case of some of the lower animals, 
as insects, this effect is so marked that death almost 
immediately follows, after provision has been made 
for the continuance of the species. And among 
mammals of every grade, not only is the production 
of young a draft upon the animal powers, but the 
maintenance and defence of the young, lead animals 
to encounter many dangers, to which they would 
not otherwise be exposed. The instinctive love of 
life, even, is often held in abeyance, by the instinct- 
ive love of offspring; so that animals expose them- 
selves to death, in defence of their young. 

This instinct, that leads to the care of the young, 
continues in full force while they need the care. 
But in the case of some animals, that have been 
carefully observed, it has been found that there 
comes a time, when this instinct is reversed, so to 
speak,—when the mother will drive from her the 
young, which, a few days before, she would have 
risked her life in defence of. It is interesting to 
see the entire change that takes place, sometimes, 
in a single day. As long as the hen appears with 
ruffled feathers and an angry sounding cluck, she 
is ready to fight for her chickens; but all of a sud- 
den, her feathers are smooth, her voice changes 
from the cluck to a musical note; and then she 
fiercely drives her young from her. Her Instinct 
has now completed its round. Every peculiar in- 
stinct of motherhood appeared, as the production 
of young and their protection required it. Each 
one appeared in connection with certain bodily 
functions, over which she had no control: When 


Influence of Domestication. 159 


the functions ceased, the special instincts ceased 
with them. Her Instinct is, henceforth, exercised 
in the constant labor of self-protection and self-sup- 
port, till a new round of duties begin, with the mak- 
ing of a new nest. 

In the unnatural conditions under which many 
of our domestic animals are kept, this instinct, that 
leads to the production and care of young, is appar- 
ently modified, or kept in abeyance, by some 
stronger instinct or'change of function, that we do 
not understand. Certain animals, as Elephants and 
Eagles, never produce young while under the con- 
trol of man; and in other cases, certain instincts, 
that continue to act to some extent, are weakened 
and rendered irregular in their action; as in the 
case of fowls, which produce eggs, but never brood; 
and sheep that will not own their young. 

When we consider how dependent Instinct is 
upon function, and know how domestication inter- 
feres with the natural habits of animals, and also 
that the selection exercised by man, often comes 
in to secure conditions of life that never would oc- 
cur under the influence of Natural Selection, we 
shall be prepared to find many seeming anomalies 
of Instinct among our domestic animals. These 
anomalies may give us important information, as 
to the original habits of these animals, or as to the 
plasticity of their natures in the hand of man. 
There is now, in Natural History, no more inter- 
esting field of observation than that offered by our 
domestic animals,—no one, that promises more ad- 
vantage to science, or to the money interests of the 


160 Instinct. 


community. But of the variation of Instinct un- 
der domestication and its relation to man, we shall 
have occasion to speak again. 


All Instinct, on the part of many animals, would 
be useless in providing for their young, were there 
not an answering Instinct on the part of the young, | 
that brings them into proper relation to their pa- 
rents, or to the world, in those cases where paren- 
tal care cannot avail for them. 

The cry of danger, from the hen or partridge, 
would be of no avail to save her scattered brood, 
were there not an answering Instinct in the young, 
that instantly recognizes the note of warning, and 
impels them to seek cover. They fly from the 
mother and hide themselves; as though conscious 
that she cannot protect them from the bird of prey, 
without exposing herself to death. 

Among our highest domestic animals, the mam- 
mals, the care of the dam would fail to provide for 
the young, were there not an Instinct which leads 
the young to seek the udder. Here is the milk se- 
creted; and it is the food, and the only proper 
food, for the young. And they seek it for them- 
selves ; for not one of these hoof-bearing mammals, 
could feed its own young; or, in any direct way, 
aid the young in feeding; and the same is true of 
wild animals, that have the same structure. The 
young of such animals, must feed themselves, with- 
out aid or instruction. They must feed themselves 
at once, or die. There never was a time when 
those animals could care better for their young than 


Prompt Action Required. 161 


now. Their very existence is proof of Instinct as 
a gift, and not as the result of experience,—an In- 
stinct, as perfect in the beginning as now; for an 
experience, without the Instinct first given as a 
condition, is impossible, from the very structure of 
those hoof-bearing’ tribes, which can give their 
young no aid whatever, in securing food. 

Among birds, as we have noficed in another 
connection, we have beautiful examples of the in- 
stinct of the young responsive to the instinct of the 
mother. Many birds are hatched in a very imma- 
ture state. They can neither fly, nor walk, nor see. 
All they have strength to do, is to raise the head 
and open the bill; and this they all do every time 
the mother lights upon the nest. They do it at 
once; it is all they need to do; but this they must 
do, or die. .There is no time for them to learn by 
experience,—they must be ready to do the rzght 
thing at once, of their own accord. And there was 
no better chance for any ancestor to learn by expe- 
rience. This habit, common to all kinds of young 
birds hatched in an immature state, could not be 
an acquired habit; but must be something given 
as independently of any agency of ancestors, as the 
growth of bone or the arrangement of muscles. 

A marvellous thing it is, that the mother bird, 
when the brood is numerous, should be able rightly 
to divide her favors. If she is guided by sight at 
all, there must be wonderful acuteness of vision, 
that enables Woodpeckers and Wrens, in their cov- 
ered nests, and Kingfishers and Bank-swallows, in 
their deep holes in the earth, to discern one of their 
young from the other. 


162 Instinct. 


Although there is much connected with this 
subject that we cannot understand, there are cer- 
tain facts, such as we have referred to, plain to ev- 
ery observer, showing a wonderful correlation of 
instinctive action between the parent and its young. 

This correlation commences immediately on the 
hatching of the young bird, and it is common to 
thousands of kinds of birds, under a variety of con- 
ditions. 

Many illustrations of the same principle can be 
found among the invertebrate animals; and with 
some of them, this principle of correlation of In- 
stinct is of wider application,—a third element often 
comes in to act, as will appear in considering the 
following topics: 

1. LZustinct of animals requiring certain changes 
in other kinds of animals, or in plants, for the com- 
pletion of its work. 

2. The peculiar instinct of one stage of being as 
preparatory to another, in which that instinct ts en- 
tively lost; as in the case of many insects. 

Every plant has certain relations to the inorgan- 
ic world, as we have pointed out in a previous lec- 
ture. There is a correlation of its changes and 
developments, both as to time and conditions re- 
quired for them, with the changes in the inor- 
ganic world. 

The animal kingdom, as a whole, not only de- 
pends upon the vegetable, but it is fitted to the vege- 
table kingdom, in many respects, as that is related 
to the inorganic world. Important physiological 
changes in animals, as well as change of instinct, or 


Changes with the Season, | 163 


rather quickening of instinct in special directions, 
correspond with certain changes in the vegetable 
kingdom; without which, these changes in the an- 
imals would be meaningless, useless, or even de- 
structive to them. 

The animals that hibernate, find food, such as 
they use, most abundant in the fall; and at the 
same time, there seems to bea physiological change, 
by which the animal lays up an extra store of fat 
in its tissues, to keep the lamp of life burning dur- 
ing winter. If this change is not provided for in 
the animal’s system, by physiological action, then he 
has the Instinct to hoard food, and has activity 
enough in winter to live upon it. The instincts of 
migratory birds, change with the season ; some of 
them returning while snow and ice are abundant ; 
so that they are evidently driven north by a quick- 
ened instinct, rather than enticed by green fields 
and sunny skies. 

All the birds bring forth their young at that 
season when their food is abundant, and when there 
will be time for the young brood to mature, before 
the change of season can make its demand upon 
them. The wild goose must make her way to the 
lakes of the far north, in season to rear her brood, 
and have them full fledged and strong of wing 
to join in that grand procession towards the south, 
in autumn. 

All these adjustments, by which the animal 
kingdom struggles successfully for existence, de- 
pend upon the fact that the quickening of func- 
tions, and of special instincts needful to carry on 


104 7 L[ustinct. 


the work to completion, correspond with the changes 
in the inorganic world and vegetable kingdom. 
These general adaptations of living things to 
the changes of the earth, and the correlation of the 
changes among the different orders of living things, 
are much more common and marked than is gener- 
ally supposed. Every change seems to be a part 
of a series of machinery adjusted and set in motion 
according to a plan; and such a plan, that every 
wheel must move with a given velocity, and start 
and stop at a given time, or loss and ruin follow. 
But in addition to these general adaptations, by 
which all beings in the world seem to be more or 
less dependent upon others, there are certain spe- 
cial relations of animalsto plants and of animals 
to each other, secured by Instinct, that strike 
us in the same manner, as special structure in 
animals and plants themselves. There is a whole 
tribe of insects, to which we have before referred, 
that make galls upon plants, or check the growth 
of the axis of plants in some peculiar manner. The 
Gall-fly deposits an egg upon the leaf or twig, ac- 
cording to her habit; and then her work ceases. 
Now the tree takes up the work—forms a house for 
the young insect and provides it with food; until, 
at last, the perfect insect makes its way through 
the walls of the house, into the open air. This is 
an entirely different thing from those many cases, 
where the egg is simply deposited so that the young 
can find proper food; as in the case of the Tent- 
moth, that deposits eggs upon Apple or Cherry 
twigs; or of the Carrion-fly, which deposits her eggs 


Plants as Foster-parents. 165 


upon flesh or fish. The action of securing food, in 
both of the latter cases, is entirely on the part of 
the young insects; that is, they simply eat the sub- 
stance as they find it, though not specially prepared 
for them, as the Oak-gall is, for its inhabitant. The 
Apple-trees are sufferers only in the loss of leaves 
destroyed, before they have done their work for the 
trees. There is no evidence of any relation of the 
tree to the insect, except as being its appropriate 
food, and in putting out its leaves at the right time; 
that is, before the eggs of the insect hatch. But in 
the case of the Oaks, the Roses, the Spruces and 
Golden-rods, and many other plants, there is a posi- 
tive marshalling of the powers of the plants to pro- 
vide both food and lodging for the young insect. 
And they do this workin as regular a manner as they 
form leaves or flowers. 

These plants act as foster-parents ; and in sup- 
plementing the work of the parent insect, they per- 
form the exact office of working bees in the Hon- 
ey-bee hive. 

There are ichneumon insects, and parasitic flies, 
that sting the caterpillars of certain moths, but do 
it in such a way that the caterpillar lives and eats, 
until his enemies have come to maturity at the 
expense of his life; or, at least, of his power to rise 
into a higher life. It isno uncommon thing for a 
collector to finda caterpillar bearing numerous 
small cocoons ;—the work of his enemies, that have 
wasted his life,—or to open a cocoon, and in place 
of the chrysalis, to find very many smaller objects: 
the young of insects, which have been provided for 


166 Instinct. 


by the joint products of the body and instinct of 
the cocoon-builder. The parasites fed upon the 
chrysalis of the insect, and they were protected, dur- 
ing their transformation, by the cocoon which he 
had prepared for his own transformation. 

The common Bot-fly is another example of the 
dependence of one animal upon another, for the 
completion of the work, which its InStinct has be- 
gun. This fly deposits her egg upon the hair of the 
horse, where it is held by a glue that instantly hard- 
ens. Ifthe work were left where the mother leaves 
it, there would soon be an end of the species. But 
she deposits her eggs, instinctively, on such parts 
of the body of the horse that he will swallow more 
or less of them. When the eggs or Jarve have 
reached the horse’s stomach, they have found the 
proper place for development,—a place which the in- 
sect mother cannot reach, and having no connec- 
tion with the parts where the eggs are deposited. 
But the fly, as though understanding the whole 
process and the calculation of chances, puts her 
eggs in such a position, that enough of them shall 
reach their place of development, to keep the spe- 
cies good. 

The wonderful processes by which the enxtozoa 
find their appropriate place of development, in all 
their stages of growth, are analogous to this; but are 
too intricate for use here as illustrations. 

We have in the Bot-fly, another manifestation 
of Instinct, that is difficult to be reconciled with 
that theory which resolves it into fixed habits form- 
ed by the experience of past generations; or to 


Experience not ws Origin. 167 


tendencies inherited through any means. Theegg 
is deposited by the mother, and she soon dies. It 
is then removed to the stomach of the horse, where 
it wakes to life and spends the first stage of its ex- 
istence. It has never had any connection with the 
leg of a horse, except as an egg. Before it comes 
into the world, to act as a fly, all the former race 
of Bot-flies are dead. It must begin its work for 
itself; and it goes, not where it began life, for that 
is impossible; but, to the place where it was depos- 
ited asanegg. Soifwerefer Instinct, in this case, 
to experience in the present race or past races, the 
experience begun and treasured up, must have be- 
gun in the egg! 

We have a multitude of examples, of instinct 
ofthis kind, which moves on changing, as the young 
changes from the egg to maturity; with no paren- 
tal care to aid it, and no parental example for imi- 
tation. 

The eggs of the Tent-moth are its only repre- 
sentatives in the spring of the year. But the thou- 
sands of young insects from these eggs, all start off 
in the work of feeding and web-weaving and migra- 
ting from the web, and cocoon building, just as all 
others of the same kind have done every year be- 
fore. And yet, no parent has ever seen its young, 
and no young has ever seen a parent, or any of its 
works. 

The Oak-pruners deposit their eggs on the 
branches of the oak; and the young insect grows 
and cares for itself until the proper time comes for 
its transformation. ‘Then it cuts the limb between 


168 L[ustinct. 


itself and the tree, so that its branch may fall to the 
earth, where it goes through its transformations. 
All the thousands do exactly the same things, as 
all previous generations have done before them. 

The Apple-tree Borer deposits her egg in the 
bark and there leaves it. The Borer mines in the 
wood, feeding and growing for months. But be- 
fore the time of transformation, it prepares its hole, 
so that it can easily escape into a world, where it 
has never been, and from which, up to that time, 
it has tried to escape. It has never seen the outer 
world nor known a parent’s care, nor one of its 
kind ; but it comes forth fitted for its work, not only 
by structure but by Instinct to guide,—to guide it 
perfectly, in entirely new relations to the world, and 
in the use of organs it never before possessed. 
The being bursts into life with nothing to learn, 
fully prepared to act its part,—and it is absolutely 
necessary that it should be thus provided for; be- 
cause it has neither the time nor the conditions for 
obtaining its needful knowledge, as intelligent be- 
ings must obtain theirs. 

It is plain, from these cases and the hundreds 
like them, which might be cited, that animals come 
into the world with all their instinctive capacities 
ready for action, the instant they are needed. And 
this instinctive outfit, being essential at once to the 
continuance of life, could not have been acquired by 
any changes resulting from experience or observa- 
tion, by themselves or their ancestors. 

The instinct of the young is supplemented, in 
many cases, it is true, by the instinct of the parent. 


Preservation of the Fittest. 169 


But in those species, where the young is thrown 
upon the world without a parent’s care, its Instinct 
is sufficient to guide it, the instant it is hatched. 
And the Instinct develops as a guide to the ani- 
mal, just as his organs become fitted for action. 
The Instinct, in every case, changes as the condi- 
tions of life change by development; whether the 
changes are gradual or sudden,—so that the most 
complex and wonderful manifestations of these orig- 
inal principles of action, are found among the 
lower tribes of the animal kingdom. Multitudes 
of insects commence life in the earth and in the 
water. Some of them spend years, mining in the 
ground, or hiding among the rocks and mud of 
brooks and lakes. They have organs and instincts 
that fit them for such life. But the day comes, 
when they suddenly pass to a higher life of the air. 
There is oftentimes as complete change of instincts, 
as of organs,—but both are just fitted for the new 
life of their possessor ; each supplementing the other. 
The machine and guiding power are ready at the 
same time. 


When, now, appeal is made to the “ preservation 
of the fittest,” amidst infinite variation of forms, as 
accounting for the present perfection of relation 
among all these beings, to each other, and to the 
world, in which they live, we reply, as in a former 
lecture, that we are in want of some fitness to 
begin with, before there can be variation, and the 
“fittest” be preserved. Preservation is one thing,— 


the production of something to be preserved, is an- 
8 


170 Instinct. 


other,—especially, where the thing preserved can 
be preserved only by means of its own characteris- 
tics—through its own struggle for existence. 

We are now prepared to see in what respect 
Instinct 1s a law for the animal. 

We have seen from our discussions thus far, that 
something must be given to every animal as its out- 
fit in starting in the world. There must be not 
only impulse, but there must be a certain amount 
of knowledge and skill possessed by the animal, 
when it just comes into the world, just as necessarily 
as it must have astomach and lungs. If any object 
to the terms, knowledge and skill, because the ca- 
pabilities are not acquired, they cannot deny the ex- 
istence in animals of these capabilities, that take 
the place of acquired knowledge and skill among 
men. 

I conceive that the knowledge and skill, which 
the young animal comes into the world with, differ 
no more from that which he gains in after life, from 
experience, than his stomach and lungs at the first 
moment of life differ from the same organs after 
they have grown by the process of taking food. 
The young animal comes into the world with organs 
all fitted for a certain work, and with knowledge 
and skill to fit him for that work,—that is, to main- 
tain his place in the world. Nature seems to give 
him, at birth, as little as possible of both bodily and 
mental powers; using the word mental as including 
all the activities involving volition. But she acts 
wisely, and gives the animal bodily and mental 
powers sufficient for the conditions in which it 


Uniformity among Animals. 7 


first wakes to life. Ifit isto have a parent’s care, 
then it has powers of body and mind just sufficient 
to supplement the parent’s labors. If itis one ofa 
race which never see their parents, then it has 
ereater gifts to begin with; and fights its own bat- 
tles, from the first moment of conscious existence. 
It knows how to meet any emergency and perform 
every needful work, as well as though instructed in 
the best polytechnic schools, and aided by a centu- 
ry of experience. 

When we consider the whole history of animals, 
one of the first things that strikes us, is the great 
uniformity that appears among those of the same 
kind, when left to themselves under favoring condi- 
tions. When we compare animals with the human 
species, we see a uniformity in all the manifesta- 
tions of being, on the one side, that could be secured 
only by a controlling force, uniform in its nature 
and operations in each species; and on the other, 
a diversity, that seems to originate from a force 
having some peculiarity in every individual case. 
It is a matter of great interest to trace the cause 
of this uniformity on the one hand, and of this di- 
versity, on the other ; and to this investigation the 
remaining lectures will be chiefly devoted. 

But for the present we wish to consider briefly 
the uniformity of individuals in the same species of 
animals; and leave the question of diversity among 
men, even of the same family, for future considera- 
tion, when we have more materials bearing upon 
the subject. 

We have already seen that Instinct, in its sim- 


172 Instinct. 


plest form, supplements structure and function ; 
and that Instinct varies in every animal, as the 
structure and function of his organschange. ‘These 
three elements then being the same in thousands 
of individuals of the same species, we shall have a 
constant resultant in each one of them, unless ex- 
ternal circumstances come in as a disturbing ele- 
ment. These three elements are so strong in their 
combined action, in every animal, that they shape 
his life,—experience is not able to turn him from 
the course along which they impel him. Experi- 
ence may do much for the higher animals,—it may 
keep them from danger, add to their enjoyment of 
life and improve them in many ways; but it can 
never turn them from that course, along which the 
functions of organs and the original impulse and 
culdance of Instinct, carry them. 

We see nothing in animals of the same species, 
that renders them unlike each other in following 
the impulses arising from the function of their or- 
gans.—The animal seems, in this respect, to be pas- 
sive in the formation of its controlling impulses ; 
and he follows the great impulses of his nature, 
freely, and without consideration of the remote 
consequences. That nature of the animal, which 
leads him to take into consideration only the pres- 
ent, the surrounding circumstances for the moment, 
will secure a uniformity not to be expected in man, 
who brings in to modify every activity, the memo- 
ry of the past, the accumulated experience of men 
in all ages, and the expectation of the future, with 
all its uncertainties, which never can affect an ani- 


Influence of Experience. 173 


mal, since they cannot be comprehended by him. 
Just in proportion as we find men leaving out of 
consideration the experience of the past and the 
prospects of the future, do we find almost a brute- 
like uniformity of action among them; as is seen 
in the lowest savage tribes; and just in proportion 
as we see among animals, any mingling of the mem- 
ories of the past with their present impressions, do 
we see a want of uniform action among members 
of the same species. All that we can then say is, 
that in animals, structure, function, and that part 
of Instinct which supplements them, are so strong 
that they move on together, giving the same re- 
sults in all animals of the same species; or so near- 
ly the same results, that the changes produced in 
instinctive life by: experience, as peculiar to each 
animal, are as the perturbations of the planets in 
their course, so small that they do not interfere 
with the general result ; and unless the perturba- 
tion occurs in the same quarter and is often repeat- 
ed, it never accumulates to a sum sufficient to at- 
tract attention, except by the most careful inspec- 
tion. We speak now of animals in their free state ; 
and not of that abnormal condition to which the 
influence of man may reduce them. 

The result is uniform, because all the influences 
of experience are, with animals, mainly subordinate 
to that high wisdom, which we call Instinct; a wis- 
dom given to the animal for his guidance, doing 
the work which the human race can do only by 
hard experience and patient thought. When will 
man reach like uniform and happy results for him- 


174 Instinct. 


self, through that free Intelligence, by which he 
must guide himself, or fall below the brutes ? 

Asa means of rendering results almost mechan- 
ically uniform among animals, even when they fol- 
low their impulses, we find the most important 
functions only periodically active ; and so far as we 
know, no harm comes to one animal more than to an- 
‘other, while in his natural state, from following the 
impulse of his appetites to the full extent of their 
demand. NHecan be deceived, as we shall show; 
but he is injured by being deceived, thus gratifying 
his appetite on the wrong substance, and not be- 
cause he indulged his appetite to too great an ex- 
tent. 

In man, the appetites have but a slight self-reg- 
ulating power,—they need control and restraint from 
their possessor,—while among animals they are per- 
fectly self-regulating by the periodicity and strength 
of the functions that originate them. And as in- 
stinctive action, so far as the appetites are concern- 
ed, simply supplements function, of course it never 
goes beyond the proper bound; because the appe- 
tite gives it no occasion for going beyond that 
bound. 

What we mean then when we say that Instinct 
is a law for the animal is, that those original princi- 
ples of action in him, which were given as his first 
outfit in life, always control him in the main; expe- 
rience doing but little in directing the course of life, 
though it may do much in conducting it to a suc- 
cessful issue in that course. The instinctive prin- 
ciples guide the animal in its action, to that which 


Impulses Independent of Organization. 175 


is in harmony with his physical constitution,—to 
the true end of his being,—or if they lead the indi- 
vidual to injury, it is for the benefit of the species. 


But although Instinct gives great uniformity of 
results, it is not perfect; that is, it is not infallible. 
It may be deceived, and so deceived as to cause 
the destruction of its possessor. The impression 
often prevails, that Instinct is, in some cases at least, 
an impulse that leads to the right action directly; 
without the secondary aid of the senses. The im- 
pulses that lead animals to perform certain opera- 
tions, as migrating, and the storing of food for winter, 
are perhaps of this nature; though a more careful 
examination of the subject may enable us to trace, 
even here, some direct relation between changes in 
nature and the act of the animal. But so far as 
our present knowledge goes, the action of birds in 
migration, and, especially, the action of fishes, like 
the Salmon, that pass from the ocean to fresh water 
to spawn; and also the action of animals which lay up 
stores of food for winter,—all these, and like action 
of animals, seem to originate from some impulse 
arising from their organization, independently of 
the senses. And if we say that the impulse is pro- 
duced by some relation of the external world to the 
animal’s organism, still, we have this fact remaining, 
—his always doing a specific thing involving con- 
trivance,—to be accounted for. Even if we grant 
that the Salmon remember that they were hatched 
in the river, we have still to account for their going 
back there to deposit their eggs; and for their de- 


176 L[nstinct. 


positing them in their proper places, caring for them 
as all other Salmon have done before; although not 
one of them ever saw the work done, as must be 
the case when a stream is stocked, for the first time, 
by eggs carried there from some other place. But 
in general, we can trace the direct relation between 
the instinctive act and the impression made upon 
some sense. In all cases, where the acts depend 
upon the impressions made upon the senses, the 
act is performed when the impression ismade; and 
in accordance with the impression, although the 
impression may be made in such a way as to entire- 
ly deceive the animal. There is in most animals, 
certainly in some of them, very great power of dis- 
cerning through the senses those characteristics 
that are desirable or undesirable in an object; 
but when you imitate, in any way, those character- 
istics, they act. Hence arise many cases of appar- 
_ ent reasoning, that are nothing more than the vari- 
ation of the action of Instinct to secure a given re- 
lation of the animal to the world around him. 

Flies lay eggs upon the Carrion-plant,* because 
its odor has the same relation to their sense of smell, 
as the odor of putid flesh, upon which their young can 
feed; but they make a mistake, because their young 
cannot live upon the flower. Very young birds, 
when any sound is made upon the edge of the nest, 
open their bills,—as readily to the boy that comes 
to rob the nest, as to the mother that comes to feed 
them. The instinctive act, essential to life, 1s linked to 
the sensation of sound. The hen is cheated by the 


* Kirby. Bridg. Treat. 


Mistakes of Instinct. 177 


crystal of salt which is poison to her, and eats it, 
mistaking it for the grain of quartz, that is neces- 
sary to her, for the process of digestion. Here the 
Instinct of eating gravel, which. is very curious in 
itself, is linked to a certain impression upon the 
sense of sight. | 

The whole process of cheating animals to cap- 
ture them, depends upon the fact that the purely 
instinctive notions of the animal, arise from a certain 
relation of external objects to its senses; as truly 
as those notions that may come to it in conse- 
quence of experience. The sense of smell is the 
occasion of mistake by the fly; the sense of sight, 
of mistake by the fowl, when she swallows salt in- 
stead of gravel; and she is deceived by the sense 
of hearing, when she hides at the cry, like that of 
the hawk, though the sound may be made by a 
mocking-bird, or by man. These are only exam- 
ples; many of which will occur to every observer. 
Those given are enough to show that Instinct does 
not correct the senses, or render them more acute; 
but that instinctive acts, such as we have mention- 
ed, always have a certain relation to the impres- 
sions made upon the senses. Many of the mis- 
takes of Instinct, so called, are the indications that 
we have in many acts, especially among the higher 
animals, something more than Instinct,—at least, a 
limited range of that principle of Intelligence be- 
longing peculiarly to man, which works out the 
noblest results, but is liable to mistakes, until ren- 
dered safe in its action by long experience. 

If Instinct is the controller of animal activity, 

Qe 


178 Instinct. 


the question naturally arises, How far, and under 
what conditions is it subject to variation? 

There is a tendency in almost all plants and an- 
imals, if not in all, to vary from one exact type, 
giving rise to varieties. The extent to which this 
variation may go, is at present one of the disputed 
points among naturalists, and one which it is very 
difficult to settle. All readily acknowledge that 
species vary so as to give a multitude of varie- 
ties; as in the case of the common apple and oth- 
er cultivated fruits; while some hold to the dis- 
tinct origin of species themselves, and others re- 
gard them as simply permanent, well marked va- 
rieties. 

Without entering into this discussion fully, 
which our present purpose does not require, there 
are certain things in regard to this variation of 
species, upon which most naturalists seem to be 
agreed. 

I. Variation may take place in any plant or an- 
imal in a manner and from causes quite beyond 
our comprehension; that is, apparently from some 
original constitution of the being. 

2. Rapid variation is in general, most common 
among the higher groups of plants and animals; 
especially among those most useful to man. 

3. When the process of variation has com- 
menced in any kind, we naturally expect from our 
observation, that instances of variation in that kind 
will become increasingly common. 

This may explain the reason for our finding so 
much variation among our best cultivated plants © 


Qualities of Instinct. 179 


and domestic animals. They have been under the 
influence of man so long, and so many new forms 
have been preserved, that permanent characteristics 
are not to be expected; as in nature, where only 
those types are preserved, which can fight their 
own battles in the world. 

4. There is a tendency for any characteristic, 
brought out by variation, to be propagated and 
finally to become fixed, so that it is sure to appear 
in the young of the parent possessing that charac- 
teristic. 

The tendency to exhibit peculiar characteris- 
tics, is, perhaps, most marked, or, at least, most 
noticeable, in respect to size and color. But there 
are great variations in the super-sensuous nature of 
animals. Docility, viciousness, stupidity, and most 
other characteristics, that we see in different de- 
grees among men, we also see in different degrees, 
among animals of the same species. And these 
characteristics are as likely to be transmitted, as is 
peculiarity of form or color. 

But docility, viciousness and stupidity are not 
instincts at all. They simply mark qualities of the 
instincts, or their degree of perfection; if they can 
be referred to Instinct at all. We believe that 
those qualities belong chiefly, if not wholly, to In- 
telligence, or the capacity of the animal to under- 
stand the relation of his acts as means to ends. 
Certain it is, that by training and care in selection, 
we can secure habits or tendencies in breeds of an- 
imals, as well as we can secure difference of form. 
In this respect, we see no difference between men 


180 Instinct. 


and animals. Men vary in the powers of mind,— 
even members of the same family are often quite 
unlike in temper, taste and ability. But we do not 
speak of this difference among men, as any proof 
that one possesses powers, in kind, that the other 
does not possess; but that one possesses a degree 
of power and quality of temper which the other 
does not have. 

There has been much confusion in reasoning, 
in regard to the super-sensuous nature of animals, 
because so many have decided, at the outset, that 
they are here ina field entirely different from that 
found in the study of man; and because qualities 
of powers or faculties, have been treated as new 
powers, or as something having a tendency to pro- 
duce new powers. Qualities may give the being 
new power, but not new powers or faculties. The 
new power comes from the better use and greater 
strength of old powers. 

But in addition to these qualities that make a 
difference between individuals of the same species, 
and which vary in the same individual, in different 
periods of life, we have taught in these lectures, 
that Instinct varies in its manifestations in the same 
individual to meet the different conditions of life; 
as plants vary by the law of their growth, for the 
same purpose. That original impulse, knowledge 
‘and skill, which are possessed by the animal with- 
out experience, and which we have called INSTINCT, 
are excited to action by the circumstances in which 
the animal is placed. It often happens, that an 
animal is so situated that it lives easily by the ex- 


Vartation of Instinct. 181 


ercise of only a part of this original gift; while a 
change of circumstances will instantly call the rest 
of the knowledge and skill into play. Those who 
see the change for the first time, wonder at what 
seems to them manifestations of wisdom on the 
part of the actor. Mistakes have been made in 
the study of animals, from want of careful observa- 
tion in regard to the nature and conditions of such 
changes in instinctive action. 

It is probable that instincts may be strength- 
ened in certain directions, and weakened in others, 
and changed in quality. If this cannot be done di- 
rectly, it certainly can be done indirectly, by affect- 
ing the functions of the body, which are the chief 
agencies in bringing the instincts into play, and af- 
fecting their strength and quality. 

There is great plasticity in the organic and su- 
per-sensuous part of the lower tribes even ; sufficient 
to give them a fair chance in the world; and when 
we come to the higher animals, we have a still 
greater plasticity of nature; so that qualities and 
habits can be secured and transmitted, as tenden- 
cies at least, from one generation to another. 

This is so well understood by breeders that they 
will, in time, secure almost any form or color which 
they desire,—not because they have any power to 
change these directly, but because they take advan- 
tage of the tendency in all animals to vary and to 
inherit the peculiarities of parents. In like man- 
ner, any peculiar manifestation of an instinct can be 
fixed by selection in breeding. The breeder is at- 
tracted by some habit of an animal, which would 


182 Instinct. 


be desirable. That is to him a hint. That ani- 
mal is preserved; and the chances are that some 
of its young will manifest the same characteristics, 
perhaps in an increased degree. The selection 
goes on in this direction for generations,—every 
thing in other directions being rejected and every 
thing in that direction being preserved,—until the 
peculiar characteristic is fixed; sure to appear in 
every one of the variety or breed. This may ex- 
plain the difference between Shepherd-dogs, Point- 
ers, Bull-dogs and other breeds. It is not certain 
however, that all our dogs came from the same 
original stock. 

It is to be noticed that this variation in Instinct, 
is according to a definite plan. Change of Instinct 
in strength or quality, seems to be accompanied 
with a corresponding change of structure. The two 
move on together, by some inscrutable law. The 
savage temper of the Bull-dog is accompanied with 
a ponderous jaw and enormous strength of muscle. 
The keen scent of the Blood-hound and the struc- 
ture for running all harmonize with his instinct for 
following the prey. The Spaniel and Newfound- 
land dog readily take to the water; and their web- 
feet fit them for this element. 

The Instinct, which leads the fowl to sit upon 
her eggs, is always connected with a peculiar phys- 
iological change inthe body. That change seems 
first to awaken the instinct and bring it into play. 
There is an unnatural heat of the body,—a change 
in the temper of the fowl, and a disregard of dan- 
ger. In fact, the whole nature of the animal seems 


Connection with Function. 183 


to be changed by some law of its being, as its feath- 
ers grow or drop off, at particular seasons. ‘This 
physiological change and the manifestation of the 
instinct to brood, come after a certain number of 
eggs are laid, called a “zest.” But it has been found 
that these ‘“‘zes¢ts”’ vary in number; and by continued 
selections, breeds have been secured that never 
brood. The valuable characteristic of constantly 
producing eggs, is secured; but there would be the 
loss of the breed, were it not for the care of man. 

In consequence of the abnormal conditions, to 
which domestic animals are subjected, we must ex- 
pect great confusion in the manifestations of their 
natural habits. There are great modifications of 
Instinct, as we find among dogs, modifications of 
the original Instinct, in particular directions, inten- 
sified by habit and rendered constant by careful 
breeding. ‘There is no more difference in the In- 
stinct of the different kinds of dogs, then there is in 
their structure. And as all the different forms of 
dogs are seen to be modifications of one type, so 
their instincts appear to be modifications of the nor- 
mal instincts seen among those dogs which are sup- 
posed to be near the original type. 

The relation of function to Instinct is much more 
intimate than is generally supposed, so that the ac- 
tion of one may be mistaken for that of the other. 
The wonderful instinct of the hound is often refer- 
red to as enabling him to track his prey, even upon 
the dry earth. It is not Instinct, at all, that enables 
him to do this. It is function,—the delicacy of the 
organof smelling. He has the Instinct to follow his 


184 Instinct. 


prey, as the common dogs have, but he is able to 
follow his prey when they are baffled, only by a 
more delicate function of one special sense. In- 
stinct leads the common dog to hunt for his mas- 
ter’s track; but it is function that enables him to 
find it. 

All the reciprocal influences of structure, func- 
tion and Instinct on the being, under the varied 
conditions to which our domestic animals are sub- 
jected, will never be understood until they have 
been studied long, with great care. It is in this 
field of observation, that we look for the most in- 
teresting results, in determining the limits of-varia- 
tion in the whole structure and nature of the ani- 
mal. Conceding the great changes that have taken 
place in the modifying of forms and Instincts, we 
see nothing yet that indicates the production ofa 
new Instinct; and we can never be sure that an in- 
stinct is lost simply because it does not act. An 
instinct may lie dormant for generations because 
there is no occasion for its activity ; but sheep warn 
their fellows of danger, and cows hide their calves 
when the occasion comes for calling the old instincts 
into play. And the calf, stupid as he is, knows his 
part of the performance in hiding, as wellas though 
trained in the best schools! 

We have thus seen the wide application of these 
spontaneous activities. They increase in: number 
and complexity according to the nature of the be- 
ings in which they appear. They appear when 
they are needed, and they: pass away when there is 
no longer use for them. They save the individual 


Definitions. 185 


and the species; and this they do by working won- 
ders; but if they did not perform these wonders; 
the species could not exist, as they are. | 

Each step makes it plainer to us, that we have 
not here a distinct principle or an agent, as Hamil- 
ton calls it;* but that ax [nstinct ts simply an wm- 
pulse toa particular kind of voluntary action which 
the being needs to perform as an individual or represen- 
tative of a species; but which he could not possibly 
learn to perform before he needs toact. And the gen- 
eral term, INSTINCT, zucludes all the originalimpulses, 
—excepling the Appetites,—and that knowledge and 
skill, with which animals are endowed—which expert- 
ence may call into exercise, but which rt does not give. 

All of these are given to an animal in proportion 
to his need—according to the conditions under 
which he is to start in life; and not at all in pro- 
portion to his rank in the scale of being. And all 
attempts to fix the rank of an animal by means of 
the number and perfection of those principles of 
action, utterly fail. It is just as logical to argue 
that a Sea-urchin is nearly allied to man in structure, 
because his spines have ball and socket joints, like 
the limbs of man, as to argue that an animal is near 
man in Intelligence, because his instinctive acts 
imitate the intelligent acts of man. 

If we accept the account thus far given of the 
nature of instinctive acts, we must be prepared to 
recognize Intelligence as reaching much lower in 
the scale of being than it has generally been sup- 
posed that it does. And by intelligence, we mean 


* Metaphysics, Bowen’s Ed., p. 505. 


186 Instinct. 


here, simply, the power in the actor of comprehend- 
ing ends as desirable, and his own acts as means 
to secure those ends. Intelligence carries on the 
work by experience which was begun by Instinct. 
An intelligent act can be distinguished from an in- 
stinctive act only by the conditions under which it 
is performed. ‘They may both be exactly the same 
in form and in their relation to ends. 


BECTURE, VIiIF. 


HIGHER CHARACTER OF ANIMALS.—ANIMALS COM- 
PARED WITH MAN. 


Knowledge from Experience-—Do animals think ?—Definition of 
thinking.—Conditions of the act to be studied —Difficulty of the 
work.—Condition of the animal—Physical structure and growth 
in Men and Animals —The Senses in both—Phystological like- 
ness.—Capacity of Animals for Pain and Enjoyment.—Psycho- 
logical effects of sensations in Animals.—Fear, Anger, Foy, Grief, 
Shame.— The Desires —4sthetic nature of Animals— Animals 
learn by experience.— Their actions compared with those of man.— 
Taming and trapping Animals—Memory of Animals.—Dream- 
ing.— Summary of the Argument.—Instinct the controlling pow- 
er.—The Rights of Animals. 


ANIMALS are plainly guided by some principle of 
voluntary action, which secures complicated results 
necessary for their well-being, before they can have 
experience, or instruction. These voluntary activ- 
ities, rising above the functional activities, but 
working in harmony with them, without experience, 
or instruction, on the part of their possessor, secure 
the welfare of the individual, and the continuance 
of the species. These activities, taken together, 
constitute INSTINCT; as that word is generally un- 
derstood. And Instinct, as thus defined, is un- 
doubtedly the sole guide of many of the lower 
tribes. We judge so, because they do not appear 
to have the conditions for an experience; and yet 


188 Instinct. 


they accomplish their work perfectly, and in the 
same manner, wherever found. Butso far as expe- 
rience is possible, the animal seems to be as de- 
pendent upon that, as is the human race itself. 

The self-directive, voluntary activities seem to 
be confined, in every species, to the narrowest 
sphere of action possible, consistent with the wel- 
fare of each species, under its ordinary conditions 
of life. 

In addition to those actions which are plainly 
instinctive,—because performed at once, in the same 
manner, by all members of any given species,—we 
see animals performing other acts, in the same line, 
or connected with them, that seem plainly to de- 
pend upon acquired knowledge. 

We perform the same kinds ofacts, as many an- 
imals perform, not only because we have been 
taught by others, who have also been taught or 
aided by experience, but we do them understand- 
ingly: comprehending the relations of means to 
ends; knowing, feeling, willing. We form plans, 
and execute them for our pleasure. The mistakes 
of inexperience, we correct by observation ; and we 
daily become more skilful in any work we do. All 
these acts and results mark us as “ thinking beings,” 
as this phrase is generally understood. Within 
certain limits, the higher animals appear to learn 
by the same process as we do, and to act with the 
same comprehension of means and ends. The 
duestion then naturally arises, Do any animals pos- 
sess a mental, or super-sensuous, organization like 
that of a man, in kind; so that any of their acts, are 


Thinking. 189 


the result of choice, as related to some end compre- 
hended by them as desirable? In other words, do 
animals comprehend relations, and then act for the 
purpose of securing pleasure, by adapting means to 
ends; or are they impelled to all acts, for their pres- 
ervation and productive of pleasure to them, by a 
blindly working force, that gives law to their vol- 
untary acts, with no aid from any of those powers, 
that are the chief distinction of man? Are animals, 
in any proper sense, thinking beings? The answer 
to this question can be given, not by considering 
the nature of any act alone, but the conditions, un- 
der which the act is performed. For purely in- 
stinctive acts manifest as much wisdom, as any in- 
telligent act possibly can, in aiming at the same re- 
sult. We must also agree as to what is meant by 
thinking ; or else, while we agree as to the mental 
status of animals, we may continue our war of 
words, simply in defence of our definitions. 

We have had of late, the question proposed ; 
What is it to think? And we have had answers 
given, that all thought involves processes beyond 
the powers of animals, and therefore that they do 
not think. This is a short way of disposing of the 
matter; and most questions can be disposed of in 
the same manner. If a man starts with a given 
definition of thinking, declaring that it always in- 
volves certain elements, and then denies that ani- 
mals ever have those elements, because he accounts 
for all apparent manifestation of these elements 
in them, by some low form of association of ideas, 
the argument, with him, is ended, of course. We 


190 Instinct. 


believe that animals have elements of thought, 
which some have denied to them. We know, cer- 
tainly, that animals act as though they had notions 
of time, space and causality. But it can never be 
conclusively proved that they have them, we readi- 
ly admit. 

To be explicit, let us define “ thinking,” as we 
now intend to usethe word. If any object to the 
definition, they will understand our meaning. 
When any being performs an act, to secure pleas- 
ure or avoid pain, because he comprehends his act 
as ameansto secure the end, we consider that ¢izzk- 
img is involved,—of course, it often rises into high- 
er planes than this, as philosophical thinking ; but 
we consider that it begins, wherever beings act 
from any comprehension of means and ends. 

That animals perform acts, which seem to imply 
thought, no one will deny; purely instinctive acts, 
and even the movements of plants, seem to imply 
thought, where there is no sensation even. If we 
detect Intellect in animals at all then, it will not be, 
because they perform certain acts; but it will be, 
because they perform these acts under the same 
conditions, and by the same means, or methods, as 
men perform them. We must direct our attention 
then, mainly to the conditions under which the 
acts of the higher animals are performed. 

We are now called upon to enter one of the 
most difficult of all fields of observation, and to com- 
pare objects that elude the grasp of every sense. 
Those who have attempted to compare their own 
sensations and conceptions with those of others, 


Sensations Compared. Igl 


know how difficult the work is. Even in regard to 
our sensations, or sense-perceptions, we can never 
be sure that ours correspond with those of another 
person, under the same conditions. You and your 
friend look at a flower, and agree that it is yellow; 
but it does not follow that you both have the same 
color-sensation. It simply follows, that each of you 
has the same sensation, that has been produced in 
him, by all objects which he has been taught to call, 
yellow. But, asa matter of fact, when your friend 
says he perceives a yellow color, he may have just 
the same sensation, as you have, when you call the 
color, blue. It is not probable that it is so, but it 
is not possible for the best physicist, or metaphy- 
sician in the world, to so make the comparison, as 
to be sure that two persons have sensations alike, 
when they give the same name to the sensations. 
There is, indeed, one strong argument against the 
likeness of sensations, which bear the same name, in 
different individuals; that is, the different effect of 
these sensations upon the sensibilities. Two per- 
sons agree as toa color; but one likes it, another 
dislikes it. They agree as to the name of an odor 
or taste; but they disagree, as to the effect of that 
odor or taste, upon themselves. It is certainly a 
fair question; Does not the different effect of a 
taste, or odor, or color, on different individuals, im- 
ply that each produces a different sensation upon 
one person from what it doesuponanother? These 
inquiries are started here, to show the inherent dif- 
ficulty of comparing the sensations and mental oper- 
ations of different individuals, if one is disposed to 


192 Instinct. 


be sceptical, or to insist upon absolute proof of their 
agreement or likeness, in any given case. 

The proof of identity of sensations and sense- 
perceptions, can be only inferential, strengthened, 
indeed, by our belief in the uniformity, which we 
see running throughout our physical structures, so 
far as the examination can be made, by the aid of 
the senses. 

Because animals cannot speak, it seems, at first 
thought, a more difficult thing. to compare man 
with an animal, than it is to compare man with 
man. And so it is, in some respects; as the men- 
tal operations can best be revealed through lan- 
guage, and some of them, only in this way. But 
the difference, in the two cases, is by no means so 
ereat as it, at first, appears. We must in both cases, 
infer the correspondence of sensations and men- 
tal states, by certain effects. Man can aid us by 
language; but, on the other hand, an animal has 
no metaphysical theory that comes in to disturb 
his sensations, or his acts, as consequent upon those 
sensations. So it may fairly be assumed that the 
honesty of an animal, in acting free from all theo- 
ries, and all knowledge that he is under examina- 
tion, may be a fair offset against the gift of speech, 
as an aid in investigating the sensations and con- 
ceptions of our fellow-men. 

As our object now is, to make a fair comparison 
of man with the highest and best known, of the 
lower animals, we begin with their bodies. 

The structure of all vertebrates is essentially 
the same, and varied, only in accordance with the 


Animals and Man Compared. 193 


conditions of life, in each species. There is, also, 
likeness of substance. If we take a human bone 
and one froma dog, and analyze them, we find them, 
throughout of the same chemical composition. 
The bones grow, and the tissues are combined, in es- 
sentially the same manner in both. The differences 
are merely specific, but the generic character of 
bone is constant. If we compare the muscles of 
both, the same is true. Not only are the muscle of 
a dog and that of a man alike in their general 
structure, action and use, but they are composed of 
the same materials, and they grow in the same man- 
ner. Thenervous systems of both have essential- 
ly the same composition, as they have the same 
structure and the same use. So, throughout, our 
comparison will hold, until. we satisfy ourselves 
that, in any one of the higher vertebrate animals, 
we find the same kind of materials organized in the 
same manner, and for the same uses, as in our own 
bodies. Growth, decay, life and death are essen- 
tially the same, in all the higher animals, as in man. 

Now let us advance a step, and compare the 
senses and sensations of both. We have no sense 
which we do not find in some animal; and the senses 
of animals, so far as we can judge; are affected 
in the same way as ours are, by the same objects. 
They may have some of the senses more acute than 
ours are, but they differ from ours, only in degree ; 
as the senses of men differ in strength and delicacy. 
So far as we know, no animal has a sense that dif- 
fers from ours, in kind. 

If we examine the phenomena of the senses in 

9 


194. Instinct. 


detail, we shall find the animal affected by colors, 
odors and sounds, as readily as men are. He may 
like what a man dislikes; as men may be affected, 
in different ways, by the same odor or taste. If 
we judge, as we do in every other case, it must be 
plain to every observer, that animals have the same 
kind of enjoyment and suffering, through the senses, 
as men have. To heat and cold, hunger and thirst, 
food and poison, sickness, pain and death, they 
have the same bodily relations, in kind, as we our- 
selves. So far as sensation has its recoil, in mus- 
cular or physiological effects, there is great simi- 
larity, if not identity, of effect. 

Those, who deny that the lower animals suffer 
as men do, bring forward no valid argument in fa- 
vor of their doctrine. It is clear assumption, from 
some notion of what they think ought to be,—a 
method of procedure utterly unworthy of any 
searcher for truth... Besides, they seem to forget 
that the same arguments, which are used to show 
that the dumb animals do not suffer, but only ap- 
pear to suffer,—if accepted, would prove that these 
animals have no enjoyment, when they seem to be 
happy, but only manifest the appearance of happi- 
ness. So far as the argument, for the benevolence 
of Deity, is concerned, it seems quite as worthy of 
His character, that He has created the lower ani- 
mals with the capacity for suffering and enjoyment, 
as that He has denied them both, and introduced a 
dumb show, that means nothing, simply to keep 
up appearances! We doubt not, the verdict of 
every thinking man, who takes time to study and 


Enjoyment—Suffering—Ffear. 195 


observe, will be, that animals have great capacity 
for physical suffering and enjoyment; and that this 
capacity is greatest in those animals that are the 
companions of man, depending upon him for much 
of their enjoyment, and receiving from him, through 
ill temper, thoughtlessness, or neglect, the cause of 
almost the entire sum of their suffering. So per- 
fectly adjusted do their powers seem to be, that, 
were they treated as well as we know how to treat 
them—though much remains to be learned of their 
proper treatment, as well as of our own,—their 
lives would be almost uninterrupted scenes of en- 
joyment; and they would contribute far more to 
the aid of man, than theynowcan. But let usnow 
consider what may be called the psychological ef- 
fects of sensations, as manifested, or made known 
to us, through the muscular and nervous systems. 
An object known to man to be dangerous to 
him, or supposed to be dangerous, causes fear; and 
the emotion of fear has its natural language, which 
the whole body speaks. The emotion is manifest- 
ed by a certain action of the muscles, producing a 
peculiar movement or fixedness of the eye, trem- 
bling, and unusual tones of voice. These same ef- 
fects are all produced upon animals, by objects eith- 
er dangerous to them, or to which they are unac- 
customed. They are frightened, under exactly the 
same conditions as men are frightened; in many 
cases, by the same objects; and the effect of the 
fright upon them, as manifested by the muscular 
and nervous systems, is precisely the same as upon 
man,—and the actions of the animal, when he is 


196 Instinct. 


frightened, have the same relation to his ordinary 
actions, as we observe in the case of men. We 
have intimated that animals know certain enemies, 
by a special instinct, such as men do not possess; 
but that question is not now under discussion. 
The question is, as to the animal’s having the emo- 
tion of fear, from any cause; and as to the likeness 
of that emotion, to the emotion of fear in man. 

Animals fear things that cannot injure them,— 
they judge, and very often misjudge. A horse is 
frightened at an old newspaper, fluttering in the 
street, or at a sudden light or sound, when no dan- 
ger is near. He, toallappearances, has weak judg- 
ment. He, like man, tries to avoid danger; but he 
is deceived by the semblance of the thing, as chil- 
dren, or timid and ignorant menare. Thenaword 
from his master re-assures him; if he has one, in 
whom he has confidence. 

Consider, also, the emotion of anger. It is 
manifested in animals, under the same conditions, 
asin man. Take from a man, by force, that which 
he desires to keep, and he is angry,—so isa dog. 
The emotion of fear may be brought in to control 
the natural effects of anger, in animals as well as in 
men. Anger has the same effect upon the nervous 
and muscular systems ofeach. ‘The eyes glare, the 
muscles become tense; there is an eagerness to 
fight,—to injure the aggressor,—and there seems 
to be an insensibility to suffering, from wounds and 
bruises. The tone of voice, in both men and ani- 
mals, is changed by anger; and the change in both 
cases produces the same quality of voice. [he emo- 


Emotions. 197 


tion of anger is, then, we may fairly infer, alike in 
both,—in its cause, and in its effect on the motions 
of the body, its position, the voice and the act. 

If we consider the emotions of joy, grief and 
shame, we shall find the similarity tohold. In the 
dog, at least, the animal most easily studied, we 
find them all manifested for like causes, and by like 
motions of eye, head, limb and tone of voice, as in 
man. <A guilty dog drops the head and cannot 
look his master in the eye,—he manifests a sense 
of shame, when he is blamed, so that he thinks his 
master judges him guilty, or worthy of punishment. 
He watches the eye and voice of his master, for the 
first indication of returning favor, and expresses his 
delight as plainly as actions alone can express an 
emotion. These higher animals even know how to 
interpret the motions and tones of voice, that indi- 
cate some of these emotions in men, when they 
themselves are not directly concerned. 

In the appetites and simple emotions, we can, 
then, make no distinction, in kind, between an ani- 
mal andaman. Themore closely we press the ex- 
amination, the more marked does the _ likeness 
appear. | 

When we come to consider those instinctive im- 
pulses called desires, as desire of life, of property, 
of knowledge, of esteem and of power, the exami- 
nation becomes more difficult. The animal seems 
to fear a death, of which he could have no knowl- 
edge ; and he fights for his own property, if it is only 
a bone. He curiously tries to investigate the na- 
ture of new objects, and unaccustomed sounds, if 


198 [nstincet. 


they do not arouse his fear, so as to overcome his 
curiosity. But all these actions are so constant, 
and so essential to his well-being, that we might 
expect they would be manifested by each animal 
of the higher types, as a necessary condition of life. 
In their operation, there is but little that ‘simulates 
love of life, love of property, and love of knowledge 
in man; the difference, however, seems to be in the 
degree, or extent of these desires. But the desire 
of esteem is as well marked in animals as in man. 
Words of approbation seem as grateful to one as to 
the other; and both plainly do acts for the sake of 
the praise, and then come to seek their reward. 

The desire of power is as well marked, but may 
perhaps be referred to those characteristics, which 
are essential to the animal’s well-being, so that it is 
very difficult to point out its likeness to the desire 
of power in man. When strange dogs, or cattle, 
come together, the first thing that is to be settled, 
if they are near the same size, is, which is the bet- 
ter dog or ox of the two, with teeth or horns? If 
the weaker one plainly gives up, the larger will, 
sometimes, be satisfied with his acknowledged supe- 
riority. But generally, there must be a battle. 
When two men come together, it is the same, 
whether in the ring, in the senate chamber, or in 
the parlor. They measure each other’s strength, 
and there is a constant struggle till one yields. 
Among animals, and men of muscle, the battle can 
be seen; but, in many cases, among men, the bat- 
tle is only known to the two combatants. 

It is generally said of man, that he has the de- 


Social Natures. 199 


sire for society. Society is so essential to his high- 
est development, that it has been called a condi- 
tion of his being, rather than a desire. But proba- 
bly there is to man an enjoyment in society which 
is ultimate. He isa social being,—society is desired 
for its own sake. The same thing is true, also 
among animals. Horses, cattle, sheep and dogs, 
appear to seek each other’s company, not only for 
the sake of defence, but simply for the sake of com- 
pany. It may be said that dogs seek each other’s 
company, by a remnant of the old, wolf instinct, 
that led them to hunt in packs. But this theory 
will not account for their play and gambols togeth- 
er, after they become acquainted. Nor will it ac- 
count for the social nature of such herb-eating ani- 
mals and seed-eating birds, as never hunted in com- 
pany and never attempt defence in concert. 

There is love of company, in one animal, as mani. 
fested for another of the same kind, and also for 
men, and for animals of different kinds, after the 
emotion of fear is overcome. 


Shall we deny to animals an A®sthetic nature? 
Here, most of all, we need language to aid us. Let 
us be sure of our facts, and accept them as a basis 
for sound inference, instead of trying to explain 
them away under the influence of some favorite 
theory. 

To the sound of music, most of the higher ani- 
mals seem attentive. They mark differences of 
sound, that often escape the notice of many men. 
The dog will distinguish the sound of his master’s 


200 Instinct. 


sleigh-bell, as soon as its tinkle can be heard. The 
horse keeps step to the music, and learns to obey 
the bugle note. Singing birds accompany musical 
instruments, and imitate their sound, and the songs 
of other birds, to perfection. From this power of 
accurately discerning sound and the accompanying 
actions, we have fair ground for inferring that many 
of the higher animals not only distinguish musical 
sounds, but enjoy them. That wealth of melody, 
which fills our fields and groves, is sweet to the ear 
of man; but the songsters do not wait his coming, 
to begin their concert. 


“Ts it for thee, the linnet pours his throat ? 
Loves of his own, and raptures, swell the note.” 


That animals are sensible of beauty of form and 
color, it would be difficult to prove. It is, certainly, 
some argument in its favor, that they are most 
beautiful, in form and color, when they choose their 
mates. That they admire the landscape, over 
which they wander, or gaze from the giddy Alps, 
with the emotion of awe, or wonder at their sublim- 
ity, is something which we can never know. These 
high emotions can be revealed only by the face and 
tongue of man. But it is sometimes said that all 
this enjoyment, which comes to animals through 
the senses, arises from a low form of activity which 
betokens no intelligence or thought. Do animals 
reason? After eliminating all instinctive acts, 
which simulate the rational acts of men, do we find 
that animals perform any acts, by the use of the 
same powers, and in the same manner, as men do, 


Learning from Experience. 201 


under the guidance of Intelligence? Ifthey do not, 
then we must acknowledge that there is introduced 
into the works of nature, a false show, which is ut- 
terly abhorrent to our notions of truthfulness, and 
subversive of confidence in all our reasoning from 
natural phenomena. Animals, certainly, learn by 
experience, and often guide their lives as wisely by 
it, asmost men do. Birds fear hawks instinctively ; 
but they learn, by experience, that man and many 
other things are to be dreaded, and the conditions 
under which they are most dangerous. The crow 
learns that men walking alone, are apt to be dan- 
gerous; and that when riding, they are compara- 
tively harmless. He soon allows the train of cars 
to thunder by him, while he sits by the road side, 
as unmoved by its roar, and fire, and smoke, and 
engineers, as he is by the clouds that pass over him. 
He has learned that locomotives, and the men on 
them, are not dangerous to crows. 

The elephant, that has broken through a bridge, 
fears to trust himself upon another, until he has 
satisfied himself that it is safe. Old animals learn 
to fear dangerous things, which young animals may 
be destroyed by, and to disregard other things, that 
frightenthe young. There is, in this respect, a very 
wide range of experience for many animals. The 
same kinds of animals vary in their knowledge, ac- 
cording to their age and opportunity of learning, 
as men do. 

Probably there is no such thing as stupidity in 
Instinct proper. It isa difficult question to settle; 
but we judge so, on account of the great uniformity 

g* 


202 Instinct. 


in the work of those animals, like bees and silk- 
worms, the work of which must be entirely instinct- 
ive. Natural selection would secure uniformity, 
within certain limits; and there probably is, as we 
have before suggested, the same sort of variation 
of Instinct, in the same species, as there is of or- 
ganic structure; but so far as we can judge, the dif- 
ference, in the work of insects of the same kind, 
seems to arise from some disease or trouble with 
the functions of the body; and not with the In- 
stinct, as a guiding power. 

But there certainly are intelligent, and stupid 
animals,—animals without experience, and those 
with an experience, which they turn to good ac- 
count. Horses and dogs differ almost as much, in 
their ability to learn from their own experience, or 
to be taught by their masters, as men do. 

But, it is said by some, that this apparent learn- 
ing, from experience and observation, is only a low. 
form of association of remembered sensations and is 
never connected with real ¢thznking. As an asser- 
tion, this statement can have but little weight ; and, 
as a proposition, we have yet to see it sustained by 
any satisfactory proof. We see the same effects 
in animals, which we know come from thinking in us, 
—we see that certain acts of theirs are the same as 
we perform, and we find the conditions so entirely the 
same in both cases, that we feel called upon, in all 
honesty, to infer thinking in the animal, until we can 
find an argument against it better than those that 
consist in denial, or which start from premises that 
beg the whole question. 


Taming and Trapping. 203 


The whole process of taming and training ani- 
mals depends upon the fact that they learn by ex- 
perience. Whena wild squirrel is first caught, he 
trembles with fear, and his heart throbs, as your 
own would, at the roar ofa lion in the jungle, or the 
war-whoop of the savage close at hand. He de- 
fends himself instinctively, with all his power, and 
with the weapons nature has given him. Now put 
him in a cage, and daily feed him, and treat him 
kindly, if that is possible while he is caged. By de- 
grees, he trusts you more and more, until he is tame, 
and trusts you implicitly. His instincts are not 
changed. He still fears what he considers danger- 
ous; but he has learned, by experience, that you 
are not dangerous, though he once judged you to 
be so. 

The whole art of trapping animals consists in 
deceiving their judgment. This judgment is toa 
certain degree, instinctive, as we have shown; but 
it certainly is not entirely so, in the case of the 
higher animals. They become cunning as they are 
hunted. No animal knows instinctively, that iron 
is dangerous; as may be readily proved. Rats will 
run over all sorts of iron utensils, until one is caught 
in a trap; and after that, his fellows generally give 
that particular piece of iron-mongery, a wide berth. 
If it persistently remains at the rat-hole, and snaps 
up a few, which have not learned the danger, that 
hole will be deserted, as a dangerous place for rats. 

A fox learns that a trap is dangerous only when 
it is set; and, sometimes, the trapper has to match 
his wit against that of the fox, and often finds him- 


204. Instinct. 


self outwitted in the end. The fox will dig out 
his trap and spring it, and then take all the bait. 
Such old fellows have been caught by turning the 
trap upside down, so that the fox was evidently 
caught, as he dug under the trap, to spring it. 
When an animal thus gives a trapper extra trouble, 
he knows well before it is caught, that it is an old 
one,—one which, in addition to the instinctive cun- 
ning and knowledge common to the species, as 
their necessary outfit in life, has a good fund of ex- 
perience gained, as men gain theirs, by hardships 
and dangers. 

There is one fact connected with the fear of 
enemies among animals, that is worthy of attention, 
though we do not feel sure, at all, that we have any 
satisfactory explanation for it. 

That individual animals should become wild, by 
being hunted, is easily accounted for; but all the 
animals of a particular district soon become wild 
after men begin to hunt there. The character of 
the whole species, in that place, seems to be changed. 
This is observed to be true, even, of fishes. When 
the western counties of Massachusetts were first 
settled, the trout were easily taken in the streams; 
but now their whole character seems to be changed, 
to a degree very difficult to be accounted for, on 
the theory of individual experience; so that we 
are driven to the conclusion, either that there is a 
method of communication among these low ani- 
mals, or that the timidity of the parent, acquired 
from danger, and a particular form of danger, is 
very readily transmitted to the young. This latter 


_t 


Difference in Habits. 205 


explanation seems the most plausible: and it will 
probably be found that those low animals, to which 
is denied the power of transmitting knowledge to 
their descendants, by tradition, have given to them 
a physical susceptibility, so that the benefits of ex- 
perience are transmitted to the young, in regard to 
those things needful for the preservation of the spe- 
cies. This would bein harmony with the general 
plan of creation, as manifested in other provisions 
for the preservation of the species, by the plasticity 
of their nature; and it accounts for the observed 
facts in domestication, and among the wild animals. 
One has only to visit the coast of Iceland, where 
the Eider-ducks are protected by the inhabitants, 
and the coast of Greenland, where these birds are 
hunted by the Esquimaux, to see the marked dif- 
ference in their habits, in the two places. In Ice- 
land, they are almost as tame as domestic fowls; 
while in those parts of Greenland, where they have 
been hunted, they are among the most wary of 
birds. We simply call attention to the subject, 
and leave it for future observers to give us suffi- 
cient data for determining, with certainty, the true 
cause of that sudden change in all the animals of 
a region, after a new form of danger appears among 
them. 

If animals learn by experience, this fact alone 
would settle the question of memory. But facts 
are abundant showing that animals remember faces 
even, and that for years. They often remember 
what happens but once; nor does this process of 
memory seem to be a mere bald association of 


206 Instinct. 


ideas, connecting persons and places with pleasure 
and pain, only when those persons or places are 
again perceived by the senses. There are some 
facts which seem to show that there is, in the ani- 
mal, a sphere in which mental reproduction is as 
independent of sensible objects, and as perfect, as 
in man. The hound, that has been hunting, often 
dreams of the chase. His limbs move, and he 
barks and pants for breath, in his eagerness. If 
now he is suddenly awaked, it is amusing to see 
him rapidly glance around him, as though looking to 
see where the game has vanished. After, apparent- 
ly, satisfying himself that it was only a dream, he 
settles back, for a second sleep, with all the gravity 
of a man. 

From all these facts, we infer that through 
the senses, men and the higher animals have the 
same kind of sensations,—that pleasure and pain 
are brought to both, through the nervous system, 
under similar conditions. That they have the same 
kind of emotions, is inferred, because the same 
manifestations through the physical system, that 
indicate fear, joy, anger, and shame in us, are seen 
in them, under just such circumstances, as would 
call forth those emotions in man. 

In a word, then, the appetites and desires, so far 
as we can trace them, in men and animals are alike. 
Animals remember places, persons, and events. 
They love and hate. Harsh words and blows repel 
them, and often render them vicious. Kind words 
and good treatment will secure their confidence, 
good service, and affection. They learn much from 


The Governing Principle. 207 


their own experience; and, especially, they are able 
to come into such relations to man, as to com- 
prehend his desires and perform his commands. 
All these operations certainly involve thinking, 
as we have defined the word, and as it is generally 
used. If we accept some different definition,—one 
that eliminates all these elements, or which intro- 
duces suchelements as cannot be indicated by any 
of these manifestations, of which dumb animals are 
capable, let us know just what this definition is. 
When we have the definition, it will be for the one 
giving it to show, by something more than mere asser- 
tion, that animals are excluded, even according to 
his own definition, from the list of thinking beings. 
What then, in the animal, is the governing prin- 
ciple? We say, INSTINCT, or the spontaneous, 
self-directing activities, in distinction from free In- 
telligence, a degree of which animals possess. This 
we attempted briefly to show in the last lecture; 
and shall more fully illustrate, when treating of man. 
But at this point of the discussion we wish to say, 
that while we concede Intelligence to the higher 
animals, in distinction from Instinct, we find noth- 
ing in them that can control Instinct, or any power 
by which the animal may be said to control its own 
destiny. One instinct may, from certain circum- 
stances, control another; as when parental love 
overcomes the fear of danger ; but when we consid- 
er the acts of animals, as a whole, we find them so 
completely under the dominion of the instinctive 
principles, that the results are almost precisely the 
same, in all the thousands of a given species. It is 


208 Instinct. 


this control of Instinct, making Intelligence a ser- 
vant, rather than accepting it as a master, which 
gives the uniform plane tothe life ofanimals, of the 
same species, when left to themselves. This con- 
trol of Instinct, as being the leading power in the 
animal, isso apparent, that it probably accounts for 
much of the reluctance, on the part of many, to rec- 
ognize Intelligence in animals at all. It is natural 
to think of Intelligence, wherever it is present, as 
ruling Instinct; because it thus rules in man. But 
because Intelligence in animals, takes its place as a 
servant, under the control of Instinct, it has, in 
many cases, been entirely overlooked, or its exist- 
ence denied. It has been taken for granted, that 
Intelligence must rule, wherever it is present. In 
water, there is cohesion sufficient to form a liquid, 
but gravitation rules; and the current of water 
moves on as this force determines. Cohesion plays 
a subordinate part, and only enables gravitation to 
give the water greater power, as it moves. When 
cohesion increases, by the fall of temperature, gravi- 
tation still acts upon the particles, but it no longer 
controls their movements. The icicle holds firmly 
in its place, the frozen river refuses to flow, and 
crystals of ice shoot upward, in mockery of gravita- 
tion.. In water, cohesion is the servant of gravita- 
tion ; inice, it becomes its master, though it can never 
escape wholly from its power. So, Intelligence in 
the animal, like cohesion in water, must bend all its 
energies in obedience to the instinctive principles, 
which control the actions of animals, as gravitation — 
does the particles of water. But in man, Intelli- 


Rights of Animals. 209 


gence has become like cohesion, in ice and in the 
solid rock, which keeps them in form, and gives 
strength to the iron, and beauty of form to the crys- 
tal, in spite of gravitation, though they never escape 
wholly from its power. 


From this capacity of animals for suffering and 
enjoyment, we infer that they have rights, though 
this is denied, on technical ground, as their power 
of thinking has been denied. 

Animals have the right to get all the good out 
of life they can, in subordination to the higher be- 
ings placed over them. It is said animals have no 
conception of such rights, and therefore cannot 
have them. That they have no such conception 
remains to be proved; but in the mean time, we 
appeal to the sense of kindness implanted in their 
masters, till that is blunted by brutality, or a phi- 
losophy that has little to recommend it. 

An invasion of their right to enjoyment, they 
instinctively repel. And the natural feelings of 
men, cry out against any wanton infliction of pain 
upon dumb animals. Those who torment them, are 
alwayscruelto men. The laws justly protect them 
against cruel masters; and in these laws, the com- 
munity recognizes the rights of animals. Such laws 
ought to be better enforced than they are. The 
bodily suffering of animals may not be as keen, as 
that of a man,—if it were, they could hardly endure, 
as long as they do, all the cruelties practised upon 
them, through thoughtlessness, pride, anger and 
avarice. 


210 Instinct. 


It is difficult to prove that there is, in the an- 
imal, any sense of injustice, though there are man- 
ifestations that look as though there might be. In 
some cases, the punishment they inflict, is: not for 
defence, but, plainly, on account of some long re- 
membered abuse. But so helpless are animals, 
against the cruel wrongs practised upon them, that 
their sufferings, for the moment, make every honest 
man indignant, almost every time he passes through 
the streets. One would be glad to believe that an- 
imals are spared suffering from asense of injustice 
—that keenest pang which man is called upon to 
endure. 


We EET Wiis bee Lexe 


INSTINCT IN MAN GROWING OUT OF HIS APPE- 
TITES.—ANIMAL IN THEIR ORIGIN. 


Man and Animals compared— Observation and study a necessity for 
Man—The higher Ruling Principle—Free Personality Com- 
plexity of Man's Nature—Origin and use of the Appetites —Nar- 
row range of Animal Instinct in the child —Nursing —Fear.— 
Lforal Instincts —Animal Instincts to be governed.—Marriage.-— 
The desires —Desive of Life, of Knowledge, of Power, of Esteem, 
of Society.— Revolutions and Reformations.— Summation of 
Activities. 





MAN is called a rational being, in distinction from 
the brutes. He is certainly entitled to this distinc- 
tion, as a being in whom Reason ought to control 
all the activities. Has he Instinct,—the same in 
kind as we have found among the lower animals? 
We have attempted to show that animals have In- 
telligence ; but Intelligence subordinated to their 
Instinct, which always controls, so that almost uni- 
form results are secured, among animals of the same 
species, when left to themselves. It has so long 
been taken for granted, by a large class of writers, 
that animals possess nothing but Instinct, to account 
for their actions, that the assertion, that they pos- 
sess Intelligence, shocks many, as an attempt to 
break down the distinction between man and brutes. 


212 Instinct. 


And the assertion, which we now make, that man 
has a wider range of Instinct than any other animal 
on the globe, may be regarded as another attempt 
to break down the distinction, upon which we pride 
ourselves. We make no attempt to break down 
distinctions. We wish to find them, where nature 
has placed them,—as we mark distinctions in a nat- 
ural classification,—and not to invent distinctions, 
or make them where they only seem to exist, on 
account of some accidental characteristic, as is done 
in artificial systems of classification. 

If man has, in him, something higher than an 
animal, it does not destroy his animal nature; but 
it is something added to that nature. This animal 
nature of man, we are first to consider; for it is an 
essential part of us, while we remain in this world. 
We have already shown that the bodies of the high- 
er animals are essentially the same as those of men. 
The bones, and muscles, and nerves, in both corre- 
spond; modified only according to the habits of 
each. Weare ofthe earth, as well as they. We 
have no element, in our bodies, not found in theirs. 
Our bodies are subject to the same laws as theirs, 
in every respect, except as they have given to them 
certain changes of activities, to fit them for special 
modes of life, as in the case of hibernation. We 
find in ourselves, no new law of physiology. Every 
effort costs the waste of tissue, in the ox which 
turns the furrow, and in the husbandman, who 
holds the plough. Hunger, thirst, weariness and 
sleep come to both alike. That the human body 
is all animal, there can be no doubt. And, as an 


Impulses. ZR 


animal, man has precisely the same instincts, in 
kind, as other animals; and to the number and de- 
gree, that he needs them, according to the same 
principle, which we have found to prevail among 
the lower animals. We have found Instinct to be 
simply a method of action, involving impulse to per- 
form the act, and knowledge and skill enough, with- 
out experience, tosupplement a parent’s care. We 
have found that nature gives just as little Instinct 
as possible everywhere; and leaves as much to ex- 
perience as possible, without endangering the loss 
of the species. Ifshe gives more instinctive knowl- 
edge to the young of any kind, it is because she 
gives less to the parent; giving most of all to those 
young, which never know a parent’s care. Now, 
applying these principles rigidly to man, as an ani- 
mal, we should expect him to possess animal in- 
stincts, mainly as zmpulses. ‘We should expect him 
to have little of instinctive knowledge or skill, be- 
cause the parent is able to supply both, and has 
the natural affection, or instinctive love, to ensure 
the proper action, or the best action according to 
her judgment. She is guided mainly, by experi- 
ence. Instinct never gives her perfect knowledge 
and skill, as it sometimes does the lower animals. | 
The whole machinery of man’s nature, is so ar- 
ranged that observation and study have always been 
demanded, and always willbe demanded. While the 
instincts of the child and parent commence in im- 
pulses, just as they do in all other animals, the 
knowledge and skill are left to be acquired. And 
this knowledge can be increased, from generation 


214 Instinct. 


to generation. Here, then, in what, at first sight, 
might seem to be the imperfection of the animal 
instincts in man, we find the intimation of his high 
nature,—his capacity for improvement, and the ne- 
cessity for it,—and also the intimation that Intelli- 
gence must guide him, even as an animal; for his 
instincts, which are mainly impulses, only lead or 
drive him to ruin, unless they are directed and con- 
trolled. Intelligence here must be the master of 
instinctive action, and not its servant, as among 
the lower animals. 

It is in the supersensuous part of our being alone 
that we must look for something different in kind, 
from what we find in animals. That we shall find 
such a principle, we have no doubt; because we 
see in man results which mere animal powers show 
notendency to reach. This principle is that, in man, 
which is highest in kind, and which ought to rule 
his whole being. It should be autocrat among the 
powers. It should, from its throne above in the 
higher nature, rule all below,—making Intellect it- 
self an instrument,—as bodily instincts rule in the 
animal. The instincts of the animal grow out of 
his bodily organization—and, so far as the animal 
is concerned, they begin and end with that. The 
higher power in us, which should rule the body, 
sometimes demands of a man, that he rise above 
every animal instinct, and give up even life itself, 
although there may be none to admire or recount 
his deeds. He may be so true to himself, as to de- 
liberately accept of death—die for the truth. 

With every man, is the choice between the rule 


Mingling of Activities. 215 


of his higher, and lower nature. Though walled 
around by fate, or the laws of nature in the world 
without, and the laws of nature in his own structure 
and animal instincts, there is yet left to him, a 
throne of sovereignty,—which he may mount, if he 
choose,—from which, he declares what powers in 
him shall be servants, and which masters, for the 
time. Heappoints the bounds ofeach, or he could 
not bea responsible being. Here we come to the 
mystery of free personality. 

The instinctive powers of the higher nature, are 
ever present in man, and their agency is so intimate- 
ly blended with the agency of the animal instincts, 
—sometimes wisely controlling them and sometimes 
basely yielding, while they run riot and defeat. the 
very ends for which they were given,—that it is al- 
most as impossible to separate the activities of the 
two natures in man, as to discern with the unaided 
eye, the yellow red and blue, that are woven togeth- 
er in the sunlight. Weneed a psychological prism, 
which shall completely untangle the web, and show 
the animal and the image of God, that together 
make up this complex being, man. In the animal, 
all is beautifully simple. Every impression, from 
without, awakens impulses which he may follow to 
the full demand of his nature, with profit either to 
himself or his species. His simple nature is self- 
poised. If harm comes to him, as an individual, it 
is in following an instinct, which he was made to 
follow, and which will, upon the whole, bring good 
to his race, when followed to its fulldemand. But 
every impression in man, that wakens the animal 


216 Instinct. 


instincts, wakes with them, a watchful guardian, 
which was appointed to give them their bounds, 
and tell them when to act, and when to remain in 
quiet, though their strength may be that of Titans. 

As we enumerate the animal instinctive princi- 
ples in man, let it be understood then, that we re- 
gard them as constantly modified by a higher con- 
stitution, or principle of action, of which we shall 
in the future speak. 

As we compared animals with men, to show that 
they have something of that Intelligence, which 
appears full-orbed in man,sonow we must compare 
men with animals once more, to show that our life 
begins on the same plane with theirs. The frog 
and the fish both begin their lives as animals of the 
same kind. The young frog is, to all appearances, 
a fish; but there is in him, from the beginning, a 
principle of organization that will in the end, give 
him lungs, and enable him to live in the upper air; 
while the fish must continue to breath by gills, dur- 
ing his whole life. So man begins his life, to all 
outward appearances, as the lower animals begin 
theirs,—more helpless, indeed, because his helpless- 
ness is supplemented by the enduring love and care 
of the mother. 

The occasion for most of the lower forms of 
activity, in animals and men, are the appetites, as we 
have shown. They arise as naturally, from the phys- 
iological condition of the body, as hair grows upon 
the head or nails upon the fingers. It is as difficult 
to account for the origin of one of these, as for that 
of the other, andnomoreso. There are connected 


Relation of the Young to the Mother. 217 


with the body still other forms of impulse and guid- 
ance, that secure purely automatic, or reflex action. 
But in the appetites, we find the first provision for 
those constantly recurring activities, which lead to 
definite, voluntary action, and are plainly provided 
for the preservation of the individual and the spe- 
cies—so powerful in their demands, that they can- 
not be forgotten, nor be neglected without produ- 
cing suffering and injury. When Appetite calls, In- 
stinct answers by some voluntary act. The nature 
of that first instinctive act varies as much as the de- 
gree of perfection of organs, with which the animal 
comes into the world, and for the same reason. 
The bodily organs of the animal vary just in propor- 
tion to the ability of the mother to take care of 
him; and the same is true of his instincts. Each 
animal, from the lowest to man, has just enough 
of organization and of Instinct, to supplement the 
care which the mother is ready to bestow upon him; 
and this care of the mother, depends upon the struct- 
ure and functions of her body and her instincts. 
Among the fishes, or most of them, no parent’s care 
is needed. The organization and instincts of the 
young fish aresufficient to preserve life from the be- 
ginning. Assoon as the material in the egg is con- 
sumed, from which the fish was hatched, he is ready 
to hunt food for himself. As the period arrives, when 
other instincts are needed, they appear, as the dif- 
ferent parts of his body appeared in the egg, at the 
proper time. 

Many insects come into their highest form, with 
organs and instincts perfect, from the first moment 

10 


218 Instinct. 


of that life. Birds that cannot fly, walk, or see when 
they are hatched, have mothers, which build nests, 
in anticipation of their coming, and have the in- 
stinct to bring them the food they need. The 
chickens and young partridges leave the nest at 
once, pick the food which the mother finds, and 
often find it for themselves. They gather under the 
wings of the mother for warmth, and sometimes for 
protection, but rush from her in such danger as she 
cannot protect them from. 

The Opossum and all the marsupial tribe, have 
young more immature than other animals, but the 
mother has a pouch, in which they are securely 
carried. Their imperfect development, at birth, 
is just supplemented by this curious special struct- 
ure inthe parent. These are instances for illus- 
tration, but the result may be summed up thus: 
The structure and Instinct of the young at birth, and 
the structure and Instinct of the mother combined, 
are just sufficient to give the young a fair chance 
an the world, so that the species may be preserved ;— 
one of these elements supplements the other. If the 
chances are still largely against the individual, so 
that the species would seem to be in danger, then 
the number of individuals from a single parent is 
increased. 

The same law holds in general, in the human 
race. The child is one of the most helpless of all 
beings, as it commences life; and it is dependent 
upon the care of others much longer than any other 
animal with which we are acquainted. But its long 
years of helplessness are provided for in the natural 


Reflex Actions. 219 


love of parents, and the common feelings of hu- 
manity and considerations of the public good. 
These all become strengthened in man, just in pro- 
portion as he rises above the condition of an ani- 
mal. 

But what of the child’s animal instincts? They 
are brought within the narrowest limits, but appear 
in regular order as he develops, as we have seen to 
be true of all other animals. At the demand of 
appetite, the child is as ready to nurse, as the young 
bird is to raise its head for food.—This, we consider 
a purely instinctive act. We know attempts have 
been made, by very high authorities,* to show that 
this act of the child is not instinctive, but simply a 
reflex action,—in the beginning, entirely involun- 
tary. We cannot believe this, at all. But if it 
could be proved, it would only show that in the hu- 
man species, a reflex action is provided for, which 
simulates and ¢akes the place of Instinct, in the lower 
animals. Ifthe act isnot instinctive, it is certainly 
lower ; as all reflex actions are lower than instinctive, 
and supplementary to them, in both animals and 
men. 

As soon as the child can discern, it instinctively 
fears danger, before it can possibly have learned, by 
experience, that there is danger. It fears a strang- 
er’s face, and clings to its mother for protection, be- 
fore it has any rational ground for fearing any one. 
It has, like an animal, instinctive dread of danger, 
but it has not yet learned what is dangerous. It 
needs a mother’s care; but all her cautions in 


* Maudsley, p. 63; and others. 


220 Instinct. : 


childhood, would have little effect, were it not for 
this instinctive fear. This supplements her care, 
and instructions,—it is all that gives her warnings 
any weight, until later, the child’s instinctive love 
for her, and love of approbation and reward, lend 
their aid; and finally, the high Instinct of his 
moral nature, of which “ OUGHT” is the natural 
expression, is ready to take the helm. Henceforth 
his activities may be ruled by this higher nature, as 
the animal’s are from his lower. He will make mis- 
takes, even while that rules; but he can grow in 
knowledge evermore, while the animal, having 
knowledge sufficient to secure life, given to him 
without experience, can never make acquirements 
higher than his bodily instincts can use, in their 
narrow round. 

When, later in life, the son seeks a wife, and the 
daughter leaves her home, and goes forth to cast 
her lot, for life, with a comparative stranger, we see 
an exhibition of Instinct that is a marvel—one 
that often defies all the dictates and controlling 
power of boasted Reason. It is all very well and 
right to talk of sensible marriages ; and of law, as 
regulating marriage; that is all right ; because man 
is made to control his animal instincts—to bring 
one into subordination to another. And his in- 
stinct to form Society, and protect it, so as to 
secure the good of the whole, leads him, through 
the agency of his higher intellectual and moral na- 
ture, to prescribe certain rules by which individual 
instincts shall be governed. By prescribing rules 
for the animal instincts, and by punishing the unre- 


Control of Instincts. 221 


strained action of those instincts as a crime, man 
shows at once, that his governing power is higher in 
kind, than his animal nature. But if he is wise, he 
never attempts to entirely check an instinct, but 
he directs it into the right course and then favors 
it, to its full activity, in subordination to Reason. 
And the right course of the appetites and instincts 
in man, can only be learned by experience. . And 
just in proportion as there is ability to learn by 
experience, is there chance for loss before the ex- 
perience comes. Liability to suffering from igno- 
rance, and ability to improve by experience, are as 
necessary polarities, in the same being, as capacity 
for suffering and enjoyment are necessary polarities. 
As much as one is diminished, so much is the other 
weakened; as by weakening the polarity of one 
end of a magnet, you weaken the other at the same 
time. As, in man, the ability to profit from expe- 
rience is al its maximum, because he can avail him- 
self of the experience of others in the past as well 
as present, so is the danger of loss from ignorance, 
in following the instincts which in him, are simply 
impulses, and never fully directive, as they are 
among the lower animals. They are powerful— 
must be heeded—but in general need instruction © 
and law to direct them ; both of which, to be of any 
value, must be simply the echo of experience. 
They never will be perfect, till they are the true 
echoes of the best possible experience. 

So then marriage, high and holy as it is, around 
which all that is most lovely, and pure, and sacred 
on earth, centres, has its origin in the instinctive 


232 Instinct. 


nature of the race—in the same instincts, that ap- 
pear in all the higher animals, which even there are 
so beautiful that the philosopher is made to say,— 


“In parental care and nuptial love, 
I learn my duties from the dove.” 


Those who think the instincts of humanity are 
to be ignored, in the relation of the sexes, forget 
that man has an animal nature; and those who 
think the instincts are a sufficient guide, forget 
that he belongs to that noble class, who are permit- 
ted to learn, and to become wiser by new experi- 
ence in every generation. They both shoot wide 
of the mark,—or, to use another figure, while they 
are looking at the same shield, they are gazing upon 
opposite sides; and while they thus stand, there is 
no chance for agreement as to all the devices and 
inscriptions which the shield bears. ;. 

The DESIRES are generally regarded as distinct 
from the Instincts. There is certainly no ground 
for this distinction, if we consider their method of 
action, and remember that some instincts involve 
impulse as well as guidance. Some of the desires 
have the same relation to the welfare of the being, 
as the appetites have; that is,—-they are impulses 
to action—instinctive impulses—the foundation of 
both instinctive and intelligent acts. ‘Their action 
is often complex, and often intertwined with the 
action of the acknowledged appetites and instincts. 
But the confusion has arisen, mainly, from regard- 
ing Instinct as a distinct thing, rather than as a 


Desires. 223 


certain method of action common to all classes of 
powers, in all beings with which we are acquainted, 
either as the sole condition of their life, or the first 
condition of their intelligent action. The desires 
are thought to belong to the mind, rather than to 
the body; and this is undoubtedly true of some 
of them, for they neither originate from any func- 
tion of the body, nor have special reference to its 
welfare. It is their method of action, which we 
now consider, and not the plane or sphere of their 
activity. But then we find a certain similarity of 
action running through every plane of being. The 
tree must feed, digest and assimilate,—so must the 
body of man,—so must his mind,—so must his 
moral nature. There is a wonderful similarity run- 
ning through the whole, in the substratum of each 
new plane; though something new may be added, 
as we go up from plane to plane. Man is made up 
of layers, like the geologic strata. As we come up 
through the formations of the earth, new forms of- 
life appear, higher and better than those before; 
but they are cast according to the same types that 
we found below. There is unity of plan, though 
no necessary connection of actual relationship, of 
one form with the other. So man, in his unity, 
like the globe, appears in stratas,—vegetative life, 
animal life, intellectual life, moral life,—all proceed- 
ing with so much similarity of action, that it is not 
strange, these stages are considered by some, as 
simply different degrees of development of the 
lowest ; as man himself is regarded by some, as the 
offspring of some lower animal. 


224 Instinct. 


The desire of life, which is sometimes placed 
above the instincts, as belonging to the mind, is 
certainly one of the lowest of the instincts, in the 
sense of being the broadest, and as being only an 
impulse. It gives rise to a whole series of definite 
instinctive acts among animals, and of rational acts, 
among men, which tend to preserve life. This is 
true, to some extent, of the remaining desires,— 
desire of knowledge, desire of power, of property, 
of esteem, and of society. These are the basis of 
the social nature of man. The last leads him to 
seek society, the others tend to regulate society,— 
are impulses and hints for experience to build 
upon. “ Men,” says Emerson,* “as naturally make 
a state, or a church, as caterpillars a web;”’ and 
this is true ; because the impulses and the hints are 
in them. But while the caterpillars have, for them- 
selves, one best form of web, which appears as reg- 
ularly, with each new, uninstructed and inexperi- 
enced brood, as the number of rings in their bod- 
ies, or the color of the hairs and. spots that cover 
them, man is left to work out the best form of 
state-web or church-web, for himself; by entangling 
himself and fellows, in all sorts of make-shifts, 
which may be a curse to him, or may be well 
enough, in one age or one part of the world, but 
perhaps are no more fitted for him as he grows, 
than the bark of the young sapling is fitted for 
the trunk of the full grown tree. The bark of the 
tree, and the web of both state and church, must 


* “ Conduct of Life,’ p. 176. 


Progress. 225 


be rent and thrown off, while larger bark, and 
more enlightened forms of government, in state and 
church, take their place; unless they can all grow 
in time to save the rending. They must all yield 
to the demands of that expanding organism, which 
they were made to serve; be it the tree-trunk, or 
society. Revolutions and reformations are the 
rending of the old exuvie of state and church, 
under the promptings of a higher life. This tran- 
sition period, necessary for more perfect growth, is 
the most critical time for animals and men. 

The first impulse then, to every voluntary act 
in man, that is necessary to preserve the life of the 
individual, the continuance of the species and the 
formation of society, seems to be as purely instinct- 
ive, as any act of an animal. But the impulse, to 
all these acts in man, must be limited, and, in most 
cases, directed in him, by some higher principle, 
which can act rightly only in the light of experi- 
ence; while in the animal, Instinct not only gives 
the impulse, but is self-directive, and self-limiting, 
or is limited in its action by the vegetative func- 
tions of the body. The animal, ina state of na- 
ture, finds his highest perfection in going just as 
far as Instinct and function of organs will allow. 
Man, giving himself up to such influences, without 
the guidance and limitation, which his intellect- 
ual nature affords, and which his moral nature 
demands, sinks below the brutes, as a matter of 
course. 3 


We have thus far used the word INSTINCT for 
Io* 


226 Instinct. 


convenience, nearly in the sense given by Whately 
as a blind tendency to some mode of action inde- 
pendant of any consideration, on the part of the 
agent, of the end to which the action leads. This 
is as good a definition as any that has been given, 
but it does not cover the whole ground of instinct- 
ive action, as we have shown more than once, dur- 
ing the course of these lectures. It is well for us 
at this point, to enumerate all the powers or activ- 
ities, which we have now found in the higher ani- 
mals and man, which they have, to some degree, 
incommon. It is in this way only, that we can 
point out the true nature and sphere of Instinct in 
both, and this we desire to do, whether we are able 
to give a single definition which will be satisfactory 
or not. 

1. We find Physiological agencies, by which the 
body is built up and repaired, and provision made 
for the reproduction of the species. These agen- 
cies belong to the vegetative life of the animal 
and man; volition has no direct control in any of 
their operations. They supply the conditions for 
voluntary action. | 

2. We find a sensitive nature, by which the ani- 
mal is brought into relations to the world, by sen- 
sation and sense—perception. This is the true an- 
imal nature. 

3. We find certain reflex actions, the result of 
stimuli acting upon the vegetative and animal na- 
ture. They are involuntary movements required 
for the benefit of the body—as winking, coughing, 
sneezing, and the like. 


Products of Instinct. eee 


4. We find the appetites, which arise from the 
functions of organs, but are powerful s¢zulz to 
action. 

All these are conditions for voluntary activity ; 
and upon these the instincts, including the desires, 
begin to appear,—and they involve several distinct 
things, as follows: 


a.—Impulse, arising beyond the sphere of the ap- 
petites,—as the impulse to migrate and to store 
food for winter,—also the desires, so-called. 

b.—Knozwledge without instruction or experience, 
for meeting the demands of the appetites and desires, 
and for doing all those things essential to the con- 
tinuance of the race. 

c.—Kunowledge arising independently of the ap- 
petites,—as recognition of certain enemies without 
instruction, or experience. 

d.— Skill without instruction or practice,—to carry 
out the plans necessary to meet the demands of the 
appetites and other impulses required for the exist- 
ence of the species. 

These three distinct things are involved in the 
manifestations of those activities, which are togeth- 
er labelled INSTINCT,—Jmpulse, knowledge and skill, 
—they are all given, as needed to begin life,—as or- 
gans are given for the same purpose. These pro- 
ducts of the animal’s being determine nothing of 
his rank. They simply say, “ We are here, because 
this animal must live—we are here to meet the condt- 
tions of his life, till he has a chance for experience. 
Tf he 1s not to have that, we must go farther and do 


228 Instinct. 


the whole work ; and do it so that the wisest being on 
the globe cannot improve upon our work, though we 
work through BEES and SPIDERS and WORMS—the 
lowest forms that live. 

Next above the instincts, we have found Intelli-- 
gence, which enables the actor to comprehend the 
probable results of his own acts before they are put 
forth. It may rise much higher than this, but here 
its work begins. All these activities and powers 
here enumerated, we find in man and in the high- 
est of the lower animals. So far, certainly, the an- 
imals differ from each other, and from man, only in 
degree. But while all these activities take their 
rise in the animal nature, they shoot up higher in 
man, and so interweave themselves with every no- 
bler power, that we shall find them constantly re-ap- 
pearing, as we consider the higher nature of man. 
So intimately blended are the natural affections 
with the moral nature of man, that even the natu- 
ral affections of animals, which give them a social 
nature, have been referred te by some, as proof of 
amoral nature in them. We hope to make plain 
the distinction between these two natures, before 
the close of these lectures. 


BEGLURiFex. 


RELATION OF THE INSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLES OF 
ACTION TO THE RATIONAL AND MORAL NA- 
TURE OF MAN. 


Intuitions and Instincts—Something must be given as a basis for 
Reasoning and for acting. —Agricultural Ants — Belief in the unt- 
Jormity of Natural phenomena, from observation. —Instinct acts in 
reference to contingent events——Purposes for which Instinctive 
Principles ave needed by man.— The Desires—The A ffections.— 
Love of Society— Knowledge, Property, Power, Esteem.—Faith.— 
Benevolence.—Need of guidance in man— The Ruling Power— 
Conflict between the higher and lower Instincts — The Comprehend- 
ing Power.—Difference between man and the highest animals.— 
“ oUGHT.”—Sense of obligation. 


THAT man would have animal instincts, as an im- 
pulse at least, we should expect, since his body has 
essentially the same structure, and the same rela- 
tions to the world, as have the bodies of all the 
higher animals. It now comes in order for us to 
inquire, if there is Instinct, or any principle of ac- 
tion like Instinct, reaching into his rational nature; 
in virtue of which nature, he is wont to claim great 
superiority over the lower animals, and difference 
from them zz kind. We are also called upon to 
trace more fully than we have done, the connection 
between the animal instincts and this higher nature 
of man, that we may learn how far they are modi- 


230° Instinct. 


fied by it, and to reach, if possible, that guiding 
and controlling power for all the activities, of which 
we have spoken. 

It is generally conceded by Psychologists, that 
man, asa rational being, has certain intuitive no- 
tions in regard to being, quantity, causality and 
the like. It belongs to Mental and Moral Philos- 
ophy to treat of these notions fully. But we are 
here called upon to mark more clearly, than we 
have done, the difference between /ztuztion and an- 
other principle in the higher nature of man, which 
seems to be the same in its method ofaction as ac- 
knowledged Instinct. Jutuztions belong to us as ra- 
tional beings simply; Jmstzucts, as beings called 
upon to act. We believe some things zzstznctzvely, 
and some things zztuztzvely. The words have been 
often used interchangeably, though, in general, they 
have been so used as to show that there ought to 
be a difference between them. We will start with 
a distinction, which we trust our past and future 
discussions will, when taken together, show to bea 
just one. 

INSTINCT belongs to beings, as actzmg, and so 
relates to the nature and possible combination of 
things, and the order of events. Our knowledge 
of these, and of our right relations to them, even 
in the highest realm, is secured partly by instinct- 
ive action; and necessarily so, because Instinct 
gives all that is necessary for action, which we can- 
not learn by observation and experience,—all that 
is necessary as a basis for experience, as well as the 
impulse to perform certain acts. 


Intuition. 231 


INTUITION, on the other hand, relates to ab- 
stract truth, to all that is necessary as a basis for 
correct reasoning, and for conducting the process, 
—whether in the field of pure intellect or morals. 
What we know zztuztively, will always be true. 
What we know zzstinctively, is true only because 
this order of things is what it is. What we know 
intuitively, we cannot believe to be different from 
what it is,—it is in this sense, mecessary truth. 
What we believe instinctively, might be different 
from what it is—it is contingent. 

Instinct, then, has the same relation to action 
that Intuition has to thought, or the logical pro- 
cess. In all reasoning, something must be given as 
known. If this were not done, no reasoning would 
be possible. In acting, something must be given as 
an zmpulse and as an initial directing power, or knowl- 
edge from experience would be impossible,—there 
would, in our actions, be no relation to the universe 
in which we are placed. 

The use of Instinct to animals and men, is to 
give them impulses to action, and guidance in 
spheres where the appetites, as functional, cannot 
reach, to start them in the right direction, and to 
add impulses on the way, at the same time giving 
such knowledge and skill as could not be gained 
by experience,—or perhaps better, to secure from 
them such action as could not otherwise be secured, 
without such an experience as would be destruc- 
tive to such beings, and thus be constantly defeat- 
ing the end for which they were made. We can 
best illustrate this principle by referring once more 


232 Instinct. 


to examples in the animal kingdom already men- 
tioned. The fowl has an instinctive fear of death, 
of which it knows nothing as yet. Fear is given 
to secure the requisite action, without experience, 
because the experience of death would be final,— 
there would be, after that, no chance left to profit 
by the experience. Therefore a fear is given to 
act instinctively, just as though the animal had 
learned all the terrors of death, by experience. 
Certain animals, also, are thrown upon the world 
without any parental protection. All such animals 
act, from the beginning, in securing food and car- 
ing for themselves, as though they had already 
learned many things by experience. The young 
Salmon wakes to life far up in the cold waters of 
the mountain streams, perhaps. There is no pa- 
rent, and no fish of experience there to guide 
him, or from which he can learn. At least, if he 
learned from the fishes in the river at all, it would 
be to remain there. But when the proper time 
comes, all the thousands of young Salmon start for 
the sea as their appropriate home, although they 
have never seen it. They act exactly as though 
they had had experience of the provisions of the 
sea for their use; and it is necessary for their well- 
being that they should so act. So much of im- 
pulse and direction must be given to them, if the 
species is to exist at all. The fowl, also, has not 
only the generic fear of death, instinctively, which 
is common to all animals, but it has an instinctive 
fear of certain things which might produce death. 
The fowl, that has never seen a hawk, and can 


Uniformity of Nature. 233 


know nothing of his nature from experience, is 
convulsed with terror at the sight of him. This 
enemy is known instinctively, because it is so dead- 
ly an enemy that knowledge by experience would 
be impossible to the fowl; or, at least, destructive 
to the species. It is necessary for the preservation 
of the species, that a fowl should fear a hawk in- 
stinctively, as well as that it should fear death in- 
stinctively; and so it has the fear of both, as an 
original outfit. 

The abstract notion of cause and effect, and of 
their necessary relation to each other, is zztuz¢zve. 
This notion is necessary for some of the highest 
processes of reasoning known to man, if, indeed, we 
could have any notion of such processes without 
the gift to us of this primary knowledge. But 
that belief in the uniformity of nature which in- 
fluences action, is not intuitive—it is partly instinct- 
ive and partly from experience, in both man and 
animals. Instinctive knowledge or belief, as a ba- 
sis of action, is given to both, just as far as it is 
needful for commencing the work which experience 
can complete, without involving the absurdity of 
destroying the species in gaining the experience. 
And therefore Instinct gives much more impulse 
and guidance in regard to nature, to animals, than 
it does to man, and much more to some species of 
animals than to others. Facts illustrative of this 
statement will occur to every observer; but it may 
not be amiss to discuss still farther the relation of 
instinctive knowledge to that learned from expe- 
rience, in regard to operations in nature. 


234 Instinct. 


Belief in the connection of cause and effect is, 
as we have said, intuitive; and we can never tell 
with certainty, that an animal has such a notion. 
It is the general opinion that he has not. But 
he comes, at once, into a world that makes an im- 
pression upon his senses, and he acts instinctively 
as though he believed that there is something 
without him which causes the sensations. He be- 
lieves instinctively in an external world, if we can 
judge any thing by his acts. But all that we are 
sure of is that his acts are correlated to the world. 

Undoubtedly, it is true of man, that he has an 
instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature’s laws. 
But the belief that any particular event, the ris- 
ing of the sun, for instance, will continue to occur, 
as it has in nature, is an entirely different thing. 
Probably, in man, such belief always comes from 
experience. It may be given to an animal without 
experience, when it is needful for him, or rather, 
for the species. Men plant in spring, expecting a 
harvest in autumn. The harvest may fail, and a 
particular experience is needed in each new place, 
and with each new kind of seed, to learn the best 
time of planting, and the best methods of culture, 
to secure a crop. Probably the use of seed, by 
men, for planting, is entirely the result of observa- 
tion. Give any man a new seed, and he may be 
unable to secure its germination even; or, if it ger- 
minates, it may fail to produce fruit, because he 
does not understand its nature. It is plain that 
man has no instinctive knowledge to guide him in 
securing acrop. In the only case known in which 


Uniformity of Nature. 235 


animals, the “ Agricultural Ants” * of Texas, raise, 
as well as harvest, a crop, the entire process is so 
complex, and yet uniform in all places, that it 
seems wholly the work of Instinct, as does also the 
care of other species of Ants for their herds of Aph- 
zdes.t The expectation that there will be rain or 
snow in their season, probably every one will believe 
to be founded on observation and experience. 
More persons would differ as to our belief in the 
uniform order of the seasons, and the.stated return 
of day and night. But little thought will convince 
us that these are as truly contingent, as is the com- 
ing of rain and snow. The cycles are so great, 
that we do not note the irregularity of their return; 
but we see agencies at work that might change 
them all, and probably are changing them all. Our 
intuitive belief in the relation of cause and effect, 
remains; but we learn by experience alone, the 
results which the causes now acting in nature pro- 
duce. What has been always uniform in our ex- 
perience, we expect will continue so. 

Now it is necessary for some animals, that they 
should act, not only as though they possessed this 
generic belief in causation, but that they should also 
act in reference to contingent events, of which they 
have had no experience. This is alsoa very impor- 
tant point inthe argument. The Squirrel, that has 
never seen a winter, lays up food in autumn when, 
from its abundance everywhere, it would seem that 





* «Tomes Without Hands,” (Wood), pp. 870-372. 
+ Kirby and Spence, 7th. Ed., pp. 335, 336. 


236 Instinct. 


he had least need of doing it. Something like this 
is seen in all the provisions the animal makes for 
the change of seasons, and in the provisions which 
Nature makes for him. Physiological action pre- 
pares his body with a warm coat, as winter ap- 
proaches. And if his food must fail in winter, and 
it is of such a kind that he cannot store it up, then 
Nature brings upon him a sleep, which saves food, 
and lasts till her table is spread for him again, in 
spring time. | 

The physical systems of animals and their in- 
stincts then, do have relation to the periodicity of 
these common, contingent events in the order of 
nature. They are adjusted to the length of the 
year, and even to the angle of the ecliptic with the 
equator. Such a relation is necessary for the very 
existence of many animals. 

There is no proof that Nature makes any special 
provision in man for the change of seasons. But 
she has given to his system a wonderful power of 
selfadjustment, in meeting changes of climate at 
all times, with great rapidity. Man was made to 
have continuous summer or winter, as he might 
choose, or part of each; and to learn, by experience, 
the kind and amount of clothing fitted for him. 
Mr. Wallace speaks of it as a strong argument 
against the theory that man originated from the 
lower animals, by natural selection, that no hair 
is ever found upon his back, where the longest and 
most vigorous hair is found upon the lower animals.* 


* « Natural Selection,” p. 345. 


Purposes of Instincts. 257, 


It is also true, that there is no more hair upon 
northern than upon southern races. As Nature 
makes no provision, in the system of man, for change 
of seasons, but leaves him entirely to experience as 
a guide, so, probably, she denies to him any pro- 
phetic instinct, such as she gives to certain animals, 
by which they provide for the winter, that they 
have never seen the like of. 

We have nowcome to a point in the discussion, 
where we shall best be able to trace the instinctive 
principles in the whole nature of man, by enumer- 
ating the purposes for which these principles are 
needed by him. They will, on examination, we 
think, be found to be the necessary conditions :— 

1. For life—that is, the continuance of the in- 
dividual and the species. 

2. Lor progress, of the individual and race—that 
is, as the basis or condition of experience. 

3. Lor benevolence—including under this term 
all disinterested labor for individuals and for society, 
as a whole, from natural or moral impulses. 

4. for worship—including all specific acts, that 
acknowledge God and duties towards Him, or rela- 
tions to Him, distinct from all other relations. 

The instinctive principles, which secure these 
purposes, may be simply conditions, or occasions 
of specific actions; or they may be self-directive 
and self-controlling in the performance of specific 
acts, as manifested in some animals; or they may 
be mainly impulsive and directive, but needing con- 
trol and limitation in their action, by some higher 
principle, that uses them as servants. And some 


238 Instinct. 


of them may serve more than one of these pur- 
poses. 

The instincts of the animal, so far as they seem to 
relate to his own welfare, appear to be confined main- 
ly, if not entirely, to the first class,—those that pre- 
serve life,—securing to him, of course, so much enjoy- 
ment as comes by the normal activity of his powers ; 
which never secure progress through the agency of 
their possessor alone. There the animal stops; but 
these instincts of the first class, in man, are but the 
stepping-stone to a higher nature, to the very sum- 
mit of which, like principles of action, seem to be 
needed, and to exist. Certain it is, that man has 
the power to throw down over these instincts, 
which he has in common with the brutes, so much 
of his higher nature, that they become dignified, 
lovely, and the source of happiness, reacting upon, 
and aiding all that is above them; or he may aban- 
don these instincts to their own uncontrolled ac- 
tion, so that they shall work out a degradation im- 
possible among the brutes. 

We have spoken of the appetites as the first 
condition, of the exercise of those instincts, which 
tend to preserve life. There may be certain reflexr- 
ave acts which have been mistaken for instinctive, 
but probably all will agree that a truly instinctive 
act involves volition in some stage of its history. 
Every voluntary act that aims at some relation with 
the external world, would seem to involve some 
notion of the existence of such a world. We re- 
gard this notion of the existence of an external 
world as given, as the instincts are,—the essential 


Primary Beliefs. 239 


outfit of every man and of every animal in which 
there is truly voluntary action, seeking relations to 
the world. Not that we suppose that animals or 
infants ever enunciate this truth of the existence 
of an external world to themselves, or have any 
theories or ideas respecting it, except that the 
belief is always present, as an element in the im- 
pulse to every voluntary act seeking an end in the 
world without the actor. Belief in the uniformity 
of Nature's laws, that is, that gravitation, or cohe- 
sion, or a specific kind of matter, under the same 
conditions, will always produce the same results, we 
are inclined, also, to regard as an original gift. 

It may be found that the idea of causality is all 
that is constant, and that the rest of this belief is 
partly instinctive and partly inductive, the propor- 
tion that is instinctive varying according to the im- 
perative demands of the animal, as we have al- 
ready seen is the case, in reference to those events 
in Nature that are contingent, depending upon the 
condition of the causes necessary to produce them. 
At least we are compelled to treat all men, and all 
animals that we desire to make useful to us, as 
though they had either instinctively, or as an in- 
duction, a belief both in the existence of an exter- 
nal world and also in the principle of causality, in 
all the operations of nature. So much for the con- 
ditions of all voluntary action from the lowest to 
the highest. Experience, as a guide, rests upon 
them and would be useless without them. 

But such conditions of action are not impulses 
to action; and these we want. The Appetites we 


240 Instinct. 


have, but they are not always broad enough for all 
the wants of the being, and therefore instinctive 
impulses are found, which have no direct connec- 
tion with the Appetites, though they may work in 
the same direction with them, or supplement their 
work, And among these instinctive impulses, we 
reckon the Desires, so called. It has been well said 
by President HOPKINS that the desire of happiness 
is generic. It is interwoven with all other desires. 
It is, in this respect, like the desire of life, which in- 
volves the fear of death—though probably the de- 
sire of happiness, in man, is broader than the desire 
of life, even. The desire of life may be lost, but 
the desire for happiness cannot be. Perhaps how- 
ever, that a strict analysis would show that the de- 
sire of life is only lost, so far as it is judged tobea 
condition of suffering, rather than of enjoyment. 
And that the prospect of happiness, through life, 
must be lost, before life can be given up, without 
some higher purpose than the suicide has. The 
desire of life and the desire of happiness are the 
two great under-lying instincts into which all others 
seem to strike; or rather, all other instincts are the 
special methods of securing the demands of these, 
to the individual or the species. The relations to 
life and happiness, of the things instinctively aimed 
at by any being, are by no means always perceived 
by that being. This we have illustrated by many 
examples during this discussion, showing it to be 
an essential characteristic of an instinct, that it 
shall act promptly, and as though directed by In- 
telligence, where the good of the being absolutely 


Demands of Civilization. 241 


demands it, though the being, in which it acts, even 
man himself, may be as ignorant of any reason for 
its acting, as he is of any reason for sleep or hunger, 
except that they come in consequence of a certain 
constitution that he has, he knows not how. 


Of the instincts which belong to the first class, 
that have the Appetites as their basis, which are 
common to animals and men, we have already 
treated very fully, so far as they act by themselves. 

We propose here only to call attention to the 
peculiar action of these instincts in the human spe- 
cies, as needing direction and limitation, from some 
principle distinct from themselves, and higher. 
The appetite for food is given to man, as to all 
other animals; but the choice of food, its produc- 
tion, preservation and preparation, are, with man, 
things to be learned by observation and experiment. 
Here he stands upon entirely different ground from 
any of the lower animals. Great advances have 
been made within a century, in our ability to prop- 
erly administer to the demands of the appetite for 
food. Millions of acres of our domain, have been 
devoted to these experiments, and we have but just 
begun to learn what is best for men to eat, to meet 
the demands that are made upon them, and to 
ward off the diseases to which they are exposed. 
While man lives like an animal, this is a simple 
matter; but under a high civilization, it is complex 
and demands for its treatment, powers entirely dif-- 
ferent from any thing that we can call instinctive. 


And civilization is the true state of man, so that — 
II 


242 Instinct. 


the appetite for food, which, in the animal, will 
take care of itself,—in man, becomes the occasion 
of study, of experiment, and of discussion. It not 
only aids in building up the body, but it calls upon 
the mind for counsel, as to how it may best perform 
its work. 

In all that relates to the sexes, we recognize 
strong impulses from Appetite and Instinct, but in 
every direction see the need of control and restraint 
from some power entirely distinct from the appe- 
tite, or the instincts connected with it. 

To say nothing of the mistakes of marriage, 
where even Reason and Pride are not:strong enough 
to prevent wretchedness, we often see the instinct- 
ive love of parents ruining their children, in its 
blind efforts to secure their good. Conjugal, pa- 
rental, and filial affections are as purely instinctive 
in men as in the brutes, and belong primarily to the 
animal nature—have their first impulses from that. 
But in man, they may be the source of suffering and 
degradation, defeating the end for which they were 
“ given, or they may extend much farther than it is 
possible for them to, among animals, and be lifted 
up into a sphere of beauty and permanence, un- 
known to animal life; mingling with all the in- 
stincts and powers of that higher nature, by which 
they must be controlled, if at all. . 

Husbands and wives, parents and children! 
We have but to look abroad in the world to see 
that the relations which these words suggest, pro- 
duce the greatest blessings and the greatest suffer- 
ings which this world knows,—and tliat all the suf- 





Need of Law. 243 


fering, which we most deplore, comes from ignorance 
and want of control of those appetites, passions, 
and impulses which in animals are self-directive, 
but in man must be put under restraint and guid- 
ance from something entirely beyond their own 
sphere. 

We hear much about civil laws as regulating 
these matters. And here we see the need of it; 
because these instincts are not self-regulative in 
man. Theyare to be governed by Reason and Con- 
science ; and because these are too weak in many 
individuals, there must be law, which is the expres- 
sion of the public reason and conscience, called into 
requisition to secure the best interests of all. And 
the only hope for proper laws, is in an enlightened 
conscience in the majority. 

But to untangle this snarl of the past genera- 
tions, willrequire much time and patience ; and we 
fear it will not be made straight till much more 
mischief has been done, and men learn from a long, 
sad experience, what the true bounds of these in- 
stinctive principles in man are, and have wisdom 
and moral strength to give these principles that 
guidance and limitation, which they have no power 
to give themselves. 

Distinct from the instincts, that secure the fam- 
ily relation, we have also considered the desire for 
society, which may be called an instinct. It is to 
some extent ultimate in its action, as securing en- 
joyment to men and animals, in virtue of their very 
constitution. But in man, this desire secures the 
conditions for the operation of those instincts of the 


244 Instinct. 


second class, by which the progress of the race is 
mainly secured. Society is, certainly, a necessary 
condition for the exercise of some of the instincts 
of this class, as will be readily seen, when they are 
mentioned. 


Prominent among the desires which belong to 
this second class, that secure progress, are the de- 
sire of knowledge, the desire of property, of power 
and of esteem. The desire of knowledge, of prop- 
erty, and of power, in a certain degree, may be ne- 
cessary for securing life, or the best conditions of liv- 
ing. But in man, the impulse in each of these de- 
sires, certainly, goes beyond what the preservation 
of life demands; and plainly points to progress of 
the individual and the race, as its final cause. That 
desire of knowledge which leads to study and in- 
vestigation for its own sake, prepares the way by 
years and ages of toil, observation and experiment, 
for those grand discoveries in science and practical 
applications of science, that now make the globe 
and all its forces, the servant of man. The steam- 
boats, telegraphs, -and other marvels of our age, 
come to us as the fruit of study, that had no prom- 
ise of reward when the work was done. Love of 
knowledge led men in the past, and is still leading 
them, where there is no prospect of gain. But on 
the other hand, the desire of property obeyed in 
other individuals, has given that accumulation of 
capital which makes these grand enterprises of our 
day possible. Love of esteem in man, seems main- 
ly for the benefit of society in securing from each 


Faith. 245 


one, those acts towards society and each member 
of it, which shall be best for both. These desires 
differ greatly in their strength, as a whole, or in 
their comparative strength, even in members of the 
same family. They may be strengthened by exer- 
cise, but are never weakened by it. One of them 
may be brought to the aid of the other, or be made 
subservient to it, as when knowledge is sought for 
the sake of the power it will give; or knowledge, 
property, and power are all sought for the sake of 
the esteem they will secure. Either of these in- 
stincts may become the master, and all the others 
ready servants; but the one that is master has no 
power of rightly controlling or limiting its own ac- 
tion even. Zhe controlling and limiting power ts 
still beyond. 

Very different in its action from the Desires, but 
standing high, as an instinctive principle of progress, 
is faith, or confidence in persons. It may be 
shaken, or directed in its action by experience, but 
it does not come from experience. So strong is it, 
that no amount of suffering from lying and deceit, 
will destroy a man’s trust in the words of all his fel- 
low-men. It is natural for him to believe them, 
and to trust them, as soon as the time comes when 
it is necessary that he should trust them. In child- 
hood the trust is mainly centred on the parent, or 
the one in the parent’s place, as it is best for the 
welfare of the child it should be. 

Although we may say, in our haste, that all men 
are liars, we naturally trust men, till we have been 
often deceived; and then we distrust them only 


* 


246 Instinct. 


when we think they have some motive for deceiv- 
ing us. 


We find also another principle of action that 
secures progress, though the impulse to the action, 
in some cases at least, seems to be Benevolence,— 
the object of which is to secure happiness. We re- 
fer to the disposition of men to do what they can 
for the generations that are to come after them, 
without any reference to direct relationship. We 
are disposed to think the impulse is an instinctive 
one, which becomes strengthened and directed by 
specific, benevolent, social instincts. All such ac- 
tion is so opposed to selfishness that we must look 
to see it constantly repressed, and warped from its 
free exercise. Its existence, as a distinct principle, 
may be doubted; for the instinct, if it be one, is 
complex in its action, and in many cases, may be so 
intertwined with, or obscured by, the action of 
other instincts, as to be lost sight of. 

Man desires to be remembered ; and it may be 
said this desire leads him to do what shall be bene- 
ficial to the coming generations. Undoubtedly 
this is so, but in addition to this mode of gratify- 
ing the love of esteem, there is, probably, an in- 
stinct that leads him to do work for those whom he 
has never seen, and who will never hear of his 
name. ‘The old man plants trees, the fruit of 
which he never expects to pluck.” And he does 
this without any necessary relation to family connec- 
tions, though these may come in with their influ- 
ences, to strengthen and direct this impulse. 


Self-Regulation. 247 


We recognize this principle in our building, and 
public enterprises, and in our laws, which secure 
property for generations, and make permanent cor- 
porations. 

This instinct might be reckoned as belonging to 
the third class, which are benevolent in their action, 
as we have already intimated, as well as to the sec- 
ond; for the division we have made cannot be 
sharply defined, as many of the desires and prin- 
ciples of action have several relations; and any 
one of them can be made the servant of another, 
as has been shown. But among the instinctive 
principles, which are strictly benevolent, are fzty 
and mercy. 


In our investigations thus far, we have found, in 
animals, all that they need for working out the 
best results, which it seems possible for such beings 
to reach. They have zmpulse, suitdance, and limtta- 
tion of action secured in the very nature of their ap- 
petites and instincts. Each one of these is so far 
self-regulative, as to make it best for the individ- 
ual or the species, that it shall have activity un- 
controlled by any power beyond its own sphere, 
The best condition which we can conceive of for 
an animal, when free from the disturbing influences 
of domestication, is to let him have an abundance 
of every thing needful to him, and then let him 
have entire liberty to follow every impulse. 


Not so with man. We have found in him 
strong impulses,—impulses and instinctive prin- 


248 Instinct. 


ciples of action of as wide a range as any animal 
has,—and more still remain to be considered. We 
find, as yet, nothing to direct and limit these 
impulses, to secure the highest good of man. We 
can hardly think of a worse condition for man, than 
to supply him with every thing needful for him, 
and then for him to give himself up, as animals 
may, to every impulse. The voice of the whole 
thinking world is, that there must be in man a 
power of self-control,—something outside of these 
activities, of which we have been speaking,—some- 
thing that experiments with them, observes their 
action and determines their proper sphere of ac- 
tion, allowing one to act, and keeping another in 
abeyance, in spite of its clamors; in fact, ruling 
them, and making them its servants. This higher 
power seeks for, and determines the Law of Lim- 
ztation, so fully explained by President HOPKINS. 
This law is, that every power in man must be used so 
far, and only so far, as it 1s a condition of activity 
for the next higher power. This limit of action for 
each power, the man must himself determine. And 
when that has once been determined, the Azgh, rud- 
ing power within him, confines each of these ser- 
vants to its own place, and exacts of it the la- 
bor required for the good of the whole——lIt may 
learn much from these servants skilled in their own 
departments of labor, but it never should lose con- 
trol of them. In that man, where this ruler is 
well informed, and uses the power which rightful- 
ly belongs to him, there is the order, harmony, 
happiness and progress of a well-ordered king- 


The Higher Nature. 249 


dom. But where the ruler is misled by ignorance, 
or fails through weakness or negligence, to control 
his subordinates, there is riot, waste, rebellion and 
ruin. 

We speak of this higher nature, which rules in 
man as ove, and so it is one, as something added to 
the animal nature; dut zt involves distinct methods 
of activity, which our present purpose does not re- 
quire us to fully analyze. We shall only speak of 
this higher nature in man as ruling the lower ac- 
tivities, and trace instinctive impulses into it, and 
beyond it, into the strictly religious nature; in 
both of which, these principles appear abundantly, 
thus giving a whole field of instinctive activities 
in man, which either never exist in the lower ani- 
mals; or, if they exist in them, they are beyond 
our power of discovery. 

The instincts of the higher and lower nature 
of man are in constant conflict, because the lower 
are not limited, but-are constantly pushing beyond 
their proper bounds, as they never do in animals. 
If the higher gain the day, man is worthy of the 
place he was made to fill, as the image of God and 
ruler of the globe,—having dominion over all its 
creatures, and over his own animal nature. But if 
the animal instincts take the control, there is no 
limit to his possible degradation. 

The animal powers of man must be governed, 
then, because they are not self-regulative. They 
must be limited, and directed in their action, by 
some power or set of powers above them. This 
power the man has; or more strictly, he has a com- 


250 Instinct. 


bination of powers, which makes him a ruler of him- 
self, through the sovereign act of a free personality. 
The very fact that his lower propensities,—the 
Appetites and Jnstincts,—are not self-regulative, as 
in animals, but are capable of terrific power, even 
destructive power, when left to themselves, shows 
them to be admirably adapted for service. No 
matter how powerful any agency is, if it be directed 
and controlled. The more powerful it is the bet- 
ter. Steam, and gunpowder, and gravitation are 
powerful. How destructive they are in their un- 
controlled action! How they crush and rend and 
kill! But the steam, when controlled, bridges the 
ocean, brings distant cities together, and, in the 
workshop, does the labor of millions of men. Gun- 
powder levels the mountains, and opens the riches 
of the mines. Gravitatton crowds the waters 
through the wheel, and gives us a power that needs 
no fire nor fuel for its continued strength. What 
these powerful agencies are as servants, when con- 
trolled and directed by bands of iron, the animal 
instincts are when under control of that power in 
man, appointed to give them law. What, now, are 
the powers which this ruling principle in man must 
have, or rather, that the man must have, in order 
to rule himself? We will not attempt an enumer- 
ation of them singly, for that would carry us on 
to the ground of the Mental and Moral Philoso- 
pher, where contests are always raging in regard to 
definitions and the classification of the powers. We 
shall speak of these powers, singly or in groups, ac- 
cording to their office in this governing work. 


Power of Comprehension. ee 


And first of all, asa means of rightly performing 
this work, there must be Comprehension. The man 
must, by some power or set of powers, be as capable 
of understanding all his own powers, from the low- 
est to the highest, in their capabilities, and uses, as 
he is of comprehending any thing in the world with- 
out him, upon which he can experiment to advan- 
tage. 

This comprehending power must, also, be able 
to give to the man an understanding of his relations 
to the world,—to make him a progressive being, 
this power must furnish the means of constantly 
adding to his knowledge—of widening its own 
sphere, and improving its own action. 

The full comprehension of all the powers, activ- 
ities and impulses, and of the relations of the man 
possessing these to the world, is the highest intel- 
lectual act possible, so far as the well-being of the 
man himself, in this world, is concerned. It is a 
thing so seldom done, that it is no wonder that, 
“ KNOW THYSELF,” should, for so many ages, have 
been considered one of the wisest of all sayings; 
and that the practice of the precept, should be con- 
sidered wisdom itself. This precept has, perhaps, 
never been perfectly obeyed, either in the knowing 
of one’s self or in the action, which seems ta be 
necessarily implied, as the result of knowing. And 
as society becomes more complex in its organiza- 
tion, and the relations of every man become more 
widely extended, this knowledge of self as related 
to the world, becomes more difficult. Perhaps the 
difficulty of the problem increases as fast as the 


252 Instinct. 


means are provided to aid in its solution. It can 
only be approximately solved, at mature age, and af- 
ter careful education, for its solution requires trained 
powers and knowledge acquired by the’ experience 
and observation of ourselves and others. On this 
account, it is a natural thing for man to remain 
under parental control, till this condition of acting 
is reached. Nothing but a felt necessity for this, 
would justify the long minority of young men. 
They must be controlled by others, and be fur- 
nished with knowledge by experience, and observa- 
tion and instruction, because they have neither suf- 
ficient knowledge nor self-control, instinctively, as 
animals have, to enable them to reach the best re- 
sults, when left to follow every natural impulse. 
This power of comprehension is generally exer- 
cised in a very imperfect manner, in the act of 
establishing those relations with the world, which 
naturally determine the direction of a man’s activ- 
ities for life. Even under the best conditions of 
society, the impulses are often followed blindly for 
awhile ; and then comprehension comes in, and find- 
ing the work well begun, completes it,—or, finding 
it wrongly commenced, abandons it and begins 
anew ; or makes the best of a bad case, too far gone 
to be rectified. In other cases, it never does its 
appropriate work; and the man floats through the 
world like a stick of drift-timber. In other cases 
still, where there is clear comprehension of rela- 
tions and powers, and of desirable results, there 
seems to be too little ability to restrain or con- 
trol the lower powers, and make them servants; 


Prudence. 253 


and the man is driven in this direction or in that 
according to the subordinate impulse that has usurp- 
ed supreme power. The man is made a curse to 
the world, and a ruin, by being under the control 
of some appetite or instinct, which he knows he 
ought to control, or which the common judgment 
of the world declares he ought. We begin at this 
point to see what a wide difference there is be- 
tween man,—when we consider his whole nature,— 
_and the highest even, of the lower animals. For 
the perfection of animals, no such power of com- 
prehension, as we have described, is needed. Their 
relations to the world are simple, and are fixed in 
the best manner by impulse. The relations of man, 
on the other hand, are of the most complex nature, 
so that it may be said, that each man has a mission, 
something to do in the world different from what 
every other one has to do. 

New spheres of activity open before him, and as 
he enters each, there has often to be an entire new 
use of some lower activity, or an entire new adjust- 
ment of all the lower activities,—some being re- 
pressed which were formerly stimulated, and others 
brought into activity that were formerly kept in 
abeyance. 

Now we can conceive of a being having all the 
lower activities, and the comprehension, that be- 
longs to man, simply as a rational being, and these 
powers alone, with wz/7. Such a being, with the 
capacity of enjoyment and suffering, through the 
sensibility connected with all these lower activities, 
would become, in his highest estate, a prudent be- 


254 Instinct. 


ing. Every act would be from his judgment of 
expediency in promoting pleasure or avoiding suf- 
fering. Everything would be reduced to the level 
of that action, by which a man cuts his wood in 
season to have it-dry in winter, or puts his kindling 
in beteer shape and provides it in larger quantities, 
as the clouds and winds betoken increased cold. 
If he acted for children or friends, it would be from 
a natural impulse alone, as animals act in caring 
for their kind. With such beings the word ex- 
pedient would be the highest in enforcing action; 
but, OUGHT, with the signification it now has, would 
be unknown. 

Now, in man, we find another wonderful im- 
pulse to action making a part of his higher nature, 
and by which all the lower instincts and powers 
may be intensified in action, or be kept in abeyance. 
This is Obligation, or the Sense of Obligation. It is 
not only ultimate, like the impulses of the lower 
nature, but it is the highest impulse—ultimate in 
our analysis of man, as a moral being. As it be- 
longs to man to comprehend the action of all his 
lower powers, and the use and proper limit of each 
one of them, this higher impulse grapples on to 
every one of them to restrain or quickenthem. If, 
now, the knowledge of man were perfect, this Sense 
of Obligation would be a sure cuide, and every act 
in accordance with its impulse would be the best 
possible. If the will were strong enough to secure 
every act that Obligation demands, man would 
be a perfect being. Mistake in action would be im- 
possible. Perfect comprehension of the best-rela- 


Law of Man's Being. 255 


tions, a sense of obligation to act in accordance with 
these relations, and strength of willto carry out the 
demands of Obligation, would be as perfect an outfit 
for man as we find in the animals, in their self-limit- 
ing and self-directing instincts. This outfit would be 
perfect in its action, but occupying a field where un- 
limited progress would not only be possible, but 
the natural result. It is the belief of many that. 
man was created in this state. However that may 
be, he is in no such condition now. He makes sad 
mistakes, when he does the best he knows; and he 
weakly, or perversely, gives up to impulses which 
he knows ought to be restrained. If we were to 
judge by the results of human life alone, we should 
conclude that there is no law of man’s being. For 
nothing can be greater than the differences of char- 
acter between men of the same city and, oftentimes, 
of the same family. Searching for a law among so 
many discordant elements, to one compelled to 
judge of man’s nature only from these results which 
he daily sees, would seem, at first, to be a hopeless 
task. Is man then without a law of his being which 
may guide him in his higher life? While animals 
have a law within them, which is like gravitation 
to the planets that guides them forever in their or- 
bits, has man no impulse which will tend to direct 
his course? Are the best specimens of humanity, 
after all, only accidents? We think not. And 
we think that law and guide of action within man 
will be found in THE SENSE OF OBLIGATION, when 
considered in all its demands, and in relation to all 
the other provisions made for him. 


LECTURE 


THE MORAL INSTINCTS—OBLIGATION. 


Lawof Being defined —Relation of Men and animals to this law.— 
Conditions under which Obligation arises,—Man’s Freedom.—Self- 
denial_—E ffects of Lenorance.—Relation of Obligation to the Fudg- 
ment.-—Double action of Obligation.—Doing right because it is 
Right.—Obligation to do justly —four Manifestations of Obliga- 
tion.— Its action compared with the Instincts—Its relation to Pro- 
gress.—Moral Conflicts.— Choice —Free Personality.—A ccountabil- 
ity.—Remorse.—Man compared with an animal—Moral powers 
always found in hin.—The perfection and sphere of the Animal.— 
The sphere of Man’s Action. 


WE have traced the instinctive principles, in man’s 
animal nature, to find their method of action, and 
the means by which they are controlled. We have 
found these principles in him, capable of: terrific 
power, and fitted by this power for efficient service, 
if they can be rightly directed. To find a control- 
ling power for them, we are compelled to pass be- 
yond the animal instincts themselves, to a higher 
nature. As the agency to enable man himself to 
guide and limit the action of his animal instincts, 
he needs a Comprehending power, to show him the 
relation of all his acts to results, and the relation 
of all subordinate results, to his highest good. He 
needs the power of Choice,—when different ends are 
comprehended,—in addition, to that executive vo- 


Law of Being Defined. 257 


lition, which he has, in common with the brutes,— 
and, last of all, he needs the Sense of Obligation, as 
the highest possible impulse to action. 

It was suggested, in the last lecture, that we 
should find in the sense of obligation, considering 
all its demands and relations, the true law of human 
action, as we find in the lower instincts, the law of 
animal activity. And by the law of action, for any 
being, we mean ¢hat within him, which guides, or 
tends to guide him, to that end for which he was made. 
So men, as well as animals, have within them an 
impulse urging them to seek the end for which they 
were made, only men are left to learn what that 
end is, from the study of the impulse, and to guide 
themselves towards it, by the use of all their high- 
er powers,—while the guidance to the animal comes 
from his organic development, and is towards anend, 
of which he knows nothing. We see, on every hand, 
the sufficiency of the instincts, as a guide to ani- 
mals; while in man, these same instincts need con- 
trol from some power beyond them. If we find 
Obligation to be such a controlling power, either 
alone or with the aid of other powers, we shall be 
satisfied. | 

It is not with us a question, now, how animals 
or man came by any of these powers. It is a ques- 
tion of possession, and of the nature and value of 
the possession. 

Let us now try to find the facts in the case, 
without being bound by any preconceived notion 
or favorite definition. 

In the first place, when two courses of action are 


258 Instinct. 


open before us, so that we can contemplate them 
and their results, there may arise a sense of obliga- 
tion, for us to enter upon one course rather than the 
other. 

This sense of obligation may be entirely dis- 
tinct from any notion of expediency or pleasure to 
ourselves. It is undoubtedly true that the highest 
expediency and pleasure will ultimately be found in 
the line of obligation ; but a conviction of this, is not 
necessary as a condition for the impulse of obliga- 
tion. But it is also to be said that obligation al- 
ways demands the good of the higher nature, when 
that is discerned, and the good of the higher nature 
never conflicts with the good of any other being. 

The impulses of the animal nature impel us 
where present pleasure or animal enjoyment can be 
secured,—oftentimes against the good of others,— 
but obligation may demand that every good of our 
lower nature, even life itself, be sacrificed for the 
good of our higher. That is, the sense of obliga- 
tion, so far as it acts from our contemplation of 
good, always demands that the animal in us be the 
servant of the human. . 

This sense of obligation is ever urging man on 
to discover the true end of his being and to attain 
it. But he has the power of going against this im- 
pulse, and of yielding himself to any one of the 
lower impulses of his nature, or we should not have: 
true freedom ; and he often goes against it, through 
ignorance or perverseness, in various ways, or we 
should have as uniform results in human life as 
among animals. Animal life reaches its end bya 


Obligation. 259 


self-adjusting machinery so powerful as to control 
the animal. It is left to man alone to discover what 
the end of his being is, and then to act in conform- 
ity with the law that guides him towards that end, 
or against that law. 

Man is under obligation to promote the great- 
est good of all beings, himself included. To yield 
obedience to this demand of obligation is one of the 
great acts of life, and one demanding what is called 
great self-denial; for it involves a constant struggle 
with all the lower propensities of our nature. Wise 
self-denial—all that is ever demanded and all that 
it is right for a man to make—is the control of any 
appetite or impulse when it conflicts with a higher 
good. ‘This, even, may be like cutting off a right 
hand or plucking out a right eye. 

But another great difficulty arises here, which 
follows every man through life,—the want of knowl- 
edge, which shall enable him to act in conformity 
to that high law of his being, which he knows to be 
good, and to which he may-desire to conform. 

The same thing is illustrated in the case of his 
body. He is compelled to suffer many things,— 
pain and sorrow and early death,—because, per- 
chance, he ignorantly builds his house where poi- 
sons exhale from the earth. He may know that 
there is a law of health, but in attempting to follow 
it, his ignorance leads him into all sorts of pitfalls. 

Has man then no guide towards the end of his 
being, before that end is comprehended as one se- 
curing the greatest good? We believe that the 
sense of obligation not only gives impulse to action, 


260 Instinct. 


but that its zezdency is to secure right action, even * 
amidst the most disastrous mistakes of ignorance. 
This we think will appear before we close the dis- 
cussion. And we now proceed to consider this 
sense of obligation still farther, in its subordinate 
operations to secure conformity to what would be 
its first great command, if man had wisdom enough 
to discover his true end from the beginning. 

In the first place, the sense of obligation always 
arises to do a specific act, when that act is judged by 
us, to promote any end, the seeking of which obliga- 
tion commands. It is no proof that the act will aid 
in securing the end, because the sense of obligation 
arises to perform it. Ifit were, man would need no 
aid from knowledge to guide his conduct in seek- 
ing any end that he knows to be good,—he would 
suide himself perfectly by the sense of obligation 
alone. All mistakes in seeking such an end would 
be impossible ; and growth in knowledge would be 
useless as an aid in guiding moral action. There 
are those who make this fatal blunder in life. They 
satisfy ‘‘ conscience,” and through ignorance of re- 
lations commit hideous wrong, and call it God’s ser- 
vice. Men may feel under obligation to do most 
wicked things, when they are ignorant, because the 
sense of obligation was never given to take the 
place of knowledge, or to be any excuse for igno- 
rance. 

The sense of obligation, as securing specific acts, 
has a certain fixed relation, then, to the comprehend- 
ing power, or the judgments formed through the 
agency of that power. Let the judgment decide 


Obligation. 261 


that a specific act will promote the great end, 
which it is the law of man’s being to seek, and the 
sense of obligation to perform that act arises at 
once. The action of obligation is, in this sense, an- 
alogous to the action of the lower instinctive im- 
pulses. We have shown that they have a certain 
relation to the impression made upon the senses. 
Make a certain: impression upon the senses of an 
animal, and the instinctive act follows, though its 
results may be the worst possible for the being. 
Animal Instinct was made to depend upon the 
senses for its light, or condition of acting, where it 
has any relation to the senses at all. In like man- 
ner, when the relation of a certain act, to the great 
end of our being, is judged to be direct, by the com- 
prehending power of man, the sense of obligation to 
perform that act, arises at once, though the per- 
formance of it may, through ignorance of relations, 
involve the -worst possible consequences. From 
this, it is plain that the impulse of obligation has 
the same relation to the comprehending power of 
man, that ordinary instinctive impulse has to sim- 
ple sense-perception in animals. 

Obligation then, we may regard as the great 
moral, instinctive impulse, that drives us to act in 
securing the greatest moral good at which man can 
aim, as the lower instinctive impulses drive animals ~ 
and men to act to secure physical life, which to them, 
as mere animals, is the greatest good, as it is the 
condition of all good to them. 

Both animal Instinct and the Sense of Obliga- 
tion depend for their light, or condition of action, 


262 Instinct. 


upon other powers. If it is instinct that preserves 
an animal, it is also true that it is through his in- 
stincts that we most easily destroy him. Deceive 
his senses, and he will destroy himself, by his own 
instinctive act. That which was made to preserve 
him, becomes the surest means of his destruction. 
So the worst acts the world has ever witnessed, 
have been performed under the stimulus of Obliga- 
tion, arising from mistaken views of relations. The. 
persecutions, the burnings and stonings,—the mar- 
tyrdoms in all ages,—are the horrid work of this 
highest instinct, guided by ignorance. It is like the 
power that drives the engine safely on its way, when 
the road is in perfect order, but which brings ruin 
and death, when the rails are broken or misplaced. 
Obligation demands results in accordance with 
the great end of man’s being, which it constantly en- 
forces, and ever keeps potentially present as the 
basis of every act; as the love of life is present as 
the basis of every lowerinstinctiveact. Butit has, of 
itself, no power to comprehend the relations which 
will secure the best results. For this light, or con- 
dition of right action, it must depend upon the com- 
prehending power, whether that be. INTELLECT, 
REASON or MORAL REASON, or all of these combined, 
But this action of Obligation alone would plain- 
ly be defective as an aid in reaching the great end 
which it commands us to seek. It can go with safe- 
ty, only as the comprehending power furnishes the 
conditions, and this furnishes the conditions by in- 
vestigating all agencies, and the tendencies of all 
courses of action; that is, the great work of the 


Double Work of Obligation. 263 


comprehending power, is to gather knowledge from 
every source open to it, to enable it to furnish the 
right conditions, so that every act, which Obligation 
demands shall be towards the great end which it 
constantly impels us to seek. If knowledge were 
perfect, so that the exact relation of every act to the 
great end of life, were fully understood, the machtn- 
ery would be perfect, as we have said. But there 
is great ignorance of the relation of acts to results, 
and of results to the chief end of life. Ifthe whole 
work of obligation, as a means to this end, were 
simply to impel to acts in view of perceived rela- 
tions, it is evident that a man might remain in ig- 
norance, and still obey the voice of Obligation, 
while constantly working against the supreme end 
which she commands him to seek. Obligation 
might be constantly commanding him to do specific 
acts, contrary to her original and generic command, 
as though a father who had commanded his son to 
raise wheat, should then command him to sow the 
seed on ground unfit for that kind of grain, or to 
sow in midsummer, or to parch the seed before 
sowing. 

Plainly, if man were left with a constitution like 
this, the worst consequences would follow practical- 
ly, and Reason would never justify the Creator in 
giving such a constitution to any being. 

But now we find Obligation doing another work, 
which has a tendency to correct this defect, so that 
its work can be justified by Reason. While it acts, 
in view of relations discovered by the comprehend- 
ing power, and of results which that power declares 


264. Instinct. 


to be in the direction of the great end first com- 
manded, it also demands of the comprehending 
power that it do its work in the most faithful man- » 
ner. While Obligation must have light from the 
comprehending power, it does not wait for that 
light to come or not, as some lower impulse may 
determine, but with royal voice, it demands more 
light every instant of time,—it demands all the light 
the comprehending power can give,—it will be sat- 
isfied with nothing less, and it increases its demands, 
as the capacity of the comprehending power in- 
creases, when used in the best manner possible. » 
Can any thing be more beautiful than this double 
action of obligation in the system of means? It 
does not make man a perfect being, as to knowl- 
edge, but itis beautiful, as the means of constant 
progress towards perfection. ‘There is resting upon 
man, evermore, the obligation to do right, and to 
secure knowledge, that he may know what right is. 

But are we done with Obligation yet? We 
think not. In its action just referred to, we have 
taken it for granted that the action was based upon 
the decision of the comprehending power,—wheth- 
er correct or not,—that the result aimed at was in 
the direction of the great end of life, the end for 
which man was made. But it must be plain to ev- 
ery one, that we are not compelled either to make 
broad generalizations, to understand the great end 
of life, or the relation of every act to the greatest 
good of all men, or the glory of God, before we 
have the impulse of Obligation to act, this fact has 
been clearly seen by moral philosophers, and it has 


Doing Right because it is Right. + 265 


been fully considered by them. Obligation is found 
enforcing certain subordinate acts, as those of jus- 
tice, mercy and truth, even when the good secured 
by them is not taken into account; and we even 
find it enforcing certain acts, as those of justice or 
honesty, when the act cannot be justified to Reason, 
at the time, as producing or tending to produce, 
the greatest good. And, undoubtedly, on this ac- 
count, has arisen much controversy about “ doing 
right because wt is right.” It means, we suppose, 
that the sense of Obligation impels us to perform 
_certain acts, that may seem at the time opposed to 
the greatest good, if we mean by that the greatest 
happiness of all. That it does this, we suppose all 
willadmit. A single illustration will show the prin- 
ciple. If I have property in my hands belonging 
to a rich man, who can never need it—who already 
has more than is needed by him, so that my judg- 
ment and the judgment of others, himself included, 
is that he would be happier if he had less, and I am 
in want so that the property would add to my hap- 
piness, there is yet a sense of justice, which prevents 
my appropriating the property. I feel under obli- 
gation to restore that property to him, though I 
need it for my comfort, and he does not need it for 
his. That sense of obligation to return him his own, 
does not yield to any prospect of advantage to me 
in retaining it, until a new principle comes in—the 
saving of life. I feel under obligation to save that, 
at the expense of all property that I can use, wheth- 
er my own or another's. 

Now that sense of justice, and the accompany- 

12, 


266 Instinct. 


ing sense of obligation to do justly, are so essential 
to the welfare of such a being as man is, and so es- 
sential as a part of the means for carrying out that 
social and moral system which the highest Reason 
justifies, that they seem to be both given to man 
to secure the action which is right in reference to 
his highest end, even when there is no conception 
of the good which they were intended to produce, 
—as the instincts were given to the lower animals, 
to secure certain actions essential to the life of the 
individual or species, though the animal could have 
no conception of the relation of the act to the ulti- 
mate end to be attained. 

It is this kind of impulse, from a sense of obliga- 
tion to perform certain acts, the good of which we 
do not see, and which the judgment, at the time, 
even pronounces against as a means of producing 
the greatest happiness, that probably gives rise to 
the notion that we feel under obligation to “do 
right because it is right.” J¢ zs plain that we feel 
under obligation to do certain acts, for the doing of 
which we can give no reason except that we feel the 
obligation. And we shall find all such acts to be of 
so fundamental a character, that it would be ruinous 
to any system of moral government, if not destruc- 
tive to the race, to leave them to arouse the sense 
of obligation only when the production of good is 
asserted of them by the judgment. But the acts 
that follow this sense of obligation thus originating, 
are, in their relation to a moral system, and the 
highest end of man as connected with that system, 
like those instinctive acts in the lower animals, 


Manifestations of Obligation. | 267 


without which the species could not exist, and the 
necessity of which it would be impossible for them 
to learn from experience. Itis difficult to see how 
acts thus performed, are higher in their nature than 
those that are preceded by Obligation founded on 
comprehension of relations and rational choice. 


We thus have these four possible manifestations 
of obligation. 

FIRST,—As requiring man to choose the end for 
which he was made, when that is comprehended. 

SECOND,—As impelling him to every act that is 
judged to be a means of securing that end. 

THIRD,—Impelling to certain acts when no re- 
lation is, at the time, perceived between them and 
that ultimate end which, when comprehended, obli- 
gation commands us to seek. 

FOURTH,—As laying its constant and ever in- 
creasing demands uponthe comprehending power to 
furnish the best conditions for its action. 

In all these respects its analogy to animal In- 
stinct is very striking and beautiful,—Obligation 
having for its aim the spiritual, or higher life of 
man, as the instincts of animals relate to the phys- 
ical life. 

First,—The leading instinctive impulses of an- 
imals, are those which demand the preservation of 
life—the life of the individual and the continuance 
of the species. 

SECOND,—There is an instinctive impulse to do 
all things that are seen to be connected with the 
preservation of the individual or the species. 


268 Instinct. 


THIRD,—There is an impulse to do certain acts 
which, asthe animal performs them, have no per- 
-ceived relation to the end to be secured by them. 

FOuURTH,—These instinctive impulses make con- 
stant demands upon the senses to furnish the light, 
or condition which they need for their best action. 

It may aid us in making the comparisons, to 
bring the different points together. 

I. OBLIGATION is given to secure the perfection 
of the higher life ofthe individual and the race, 
which is the highest good to both. 

INSTINCT of animals, is to secure the preserva- 
tion of physical life, which is the greatest good to 
them, and the condition of all good. 

2. OBLIGATION ‘impels ‘to every act that se- 
cures, or is judged to secure, the highest good of the 
individual or race. 

INSTINCT impels to every act that tends to se- 
cure the life of the individual, or species. 

3. OBLIGATION impels to certain acts, though 
they may not be seen by us at the time, to lead to 
the greatest good. . 

INSTINCT impels to certain acts not seen by the 
animal, at the time, to have any relation to the con- 
tinuance of life. 

4. OBLIGATION depends upon the comprehend- 
ing power for its light, or condition for right action. 

INSTINCT depends upon the senses for the con- 
ditions of its action. 


This is another of those marked instances 
where the method of action continues the same in 


Obligation and Animal Instinct. 269 


different planes of activity, even when the powers 
acting in one plane are entirely distinct, in kind, 
from those acting in the other. 

Obligation and animal Instinct differ, especially 
in this, that obligation depending for its conditions 
on the comprehending power, is fitted for an unlim- 
ited range of progress; or the being possessing it 
has progressive capacity constantly increasing in 
the individual and gaining new light from genera- 
tion to generation, and from the observation and 
experience of thousands, at the same time,—while 
animal Instinct, having its condition from the bodi- 
ly senses, has but limited range in the individual, 
and the individual can gain nothing from those 
that have gone before him, and but little from 
those associated with him. There is connected 
with animal Instinct, no such system of progress 
as is connected with Obligation, if there is any at 
all. We have, thus far, spoken of the impulse of 
Obligation, as though men follow it as certainly as 
animals follow the impulses of their Instinct. But 
this is far from being the case. If they did, there 
would bea uniformity of moral action, and of re- 
sults in the higher life of man, that would approach 
the uniformity of animal life secured by Instinct. 
The moral acts of men would differ only as their 
knowledge differed. They might make mistakes, 
but intentional wrong-doing would be impossible. 

Man has a truly animal nature with all the im- 
pulses of animal appetites and instincts. He has, 
also, this higher nature, in which the sense of Ob- 
ligation is the great impulse. As this higher na- 


250 Instinct. 


ture in man is the natural ruler of the other in him, 
there is often conflict between them. The lower 
impulses draw in one direction, while Obligation 
forbids the advance, or even demands an entirely 
different line of action. If this were not so, man 
would know nothing of those moral conflicts which 
he now finds going on within him. An animal 
may, by its nature, be impelled or compelled, to 
fight another; but as a moral being, a man’s se- 
verest battles are with himself,—between his high- 
er and lower nature. — 

When the lower impulses are in one direction, 
and the impulse of Obligation in another, the con- 
dition of CHOICE is presented. And rational choice 
is involved, in every act which follows the Sense of 
Obligation, when that arises from a comprehension 
of results. As the first demand of Obligation is 
that the highest end of man should be chosen, 
when that end is comprehended, so the first ration- 
al, generic choice is the choice of that end, as the 
goal towards which every power must press. That 
act of choice declares that the lower nature shall, 
henceforth, be the servant of the higher,—it shall 
be well used, that it may be a good servant, 
but the doom of its servitude is pronounced, once 
for all. The man henceforth rules himself,—all the 
animal nature within him is in subjection. Sucha 
choice is the act of FREE PERSONALITY. It cannot 
be illustrated, because there is nothing else like it. 
It is the only point of true freedom. It is known 
by consciousness alone. Every act of choice, both 
generic and specific, may be in the line that Obli- 


Ground of Accountability. . BFI 


gation requires, or it may be opposed to it. Every 
choice involving Obligation, or subsequent to the 
impulse of Obligation, whether in accordance with 
it or-against it, is a decision between the higher 
and lower nature, and determines which of them 
shall, for the time, rule. J/¢ zs 2x the power of thts 
intelligent choice, that we discover the highest free- 
dom, the only true freedom, and it ts here that we 
see the ground of man’s accountability. 

The impulse of Obligation being given to se- 
cure the right, or most effective, use of all our pow- 
ers, it may extend to every act towards ourselves, 
our fellow-men and God. As it is ultimate, in the 
sense of having no impulse to action higher than 
itself, it has connected with it a fearful power, by 
which it enforces its commands. It has nothing 
above it to restrain its action; and it never needs 
restraint, but only light, that it may act in the right 
direction. Then the best results come from the 
full measure of its activity. In this respect, it is, 
in its action, analogous to the instincts of animals, 
which unconstrained work out the best results for 
them, provided the senses furnish the proper con- 
dition of action. 

As there is nothing above Obligation to restrain 
it, so there is nothing to aid it as an impulse. It 
secures its own effective action only by its own 
constitution, if at all. Remorse is the recoil of 
this great impulse to action, in the higher nature 
of man, when its action is thwarted by the power 
of the lower instincts, which were not made to rule. 

If any act is contrary to the demands of Obliga- 


272 [nstinct. 


tion, the punishment that follows is quick and in- 
tense. Ifthe act is as Obligation demands, there is, 
at the time, no recoil, although the act, through ig- 
norance, may produce the worst results. There 
may be sorrow for the unfortunate results, but no 
remorse. But if the judgment, afterwards, decides 
that the ignorance which caused the evil was un- 
necessary, then remorse follows, as though the Sense 
of Obligation had been violated at the time of per- 
forming the act. For it isa part of the office of 
Obligation, as we have shown, to secure from the 
comprehending power all the light it can give. 

There must be an apprehension of one’s rela- 
tion to an act, before Obligation can arise. Then 
there must be consciousness of the Obligation. 
CONSCIENCE then, or soral consciousness, grasps by 
an intuitive comprehension every relation of man 
to every act involving choice between the im- 
pulses of the higher and lower nature; and in con- 
nection with every such act contrary to the sense 
.of Obligation, there comes the punishment of re- 
morse, which we conceive to be the dreadful recoil 
of this highest moral impulse, Obligation, when it 
is defied and thwarted in its legitimate work. It is 
Conscience or moral consciousness, that makes the 
torments of remorse possible; and if one chooses 
to regard obligation and remorse both as the work 
of Conscience, we do not object, as we are seeking 
for facts, and not for theoretical divisions or defini- 
tions. 

We are now prepared to state the difference be- 
tween a man and an animal, as we have found them 


Characteristics of Man. 273 


in our analysis, up to this point. It consists in 
three things. 

In man we find— 

FIRST,—A comprehending power, that surveys 
the universe, and all the capacities of its possessor, 
in relation to that universe. 

SECOND,—A sense of Obligation to do certain 
acts, and to refrain from others,—this sense arising 
spontaneously, in view of certain relations or re- 
sults, and being distinct from those impulses of the 
affections or desires, which may belong to an ani- 
mal. 

THIRD,—The power of choice, that gives, by 
its generic action, individuality of aim for a life- 
time ; and, in specific acts, determines whether the 
higher or lower nature of man shall rule. These 
three powers, with executive volition, make man 
the ruler of the world and the shaper of his own 
destiny, so far as choice and attempts are con- 
cerned. 

These three powers are all that we have yet 
found distinctive inthe higher nature of man. If 
animals have either of them, we look in vain for the 
proof of it in the whole range of the animal kingdom. 
It isclaimed by some that animals have these powers, 
but the proof offered is not satisfactory. The beauti- 
ful action of the natural instincts, as the social in- 
stincts, and parental instincts,—is often triumphantly 
referred to as proof of the moral nature of animals; 
but a full analysis of these instincts shows that they 
occupy an entirely different sphere from the three 
powers we have mentioned. In man these natural in- 

12% 


274 fs Instinct. 


stincts call the moral nature into action, it is true; 
but in the animals, they need neither guidance nor 
restraint from obligation or any thing above them, 
as we have shown. 

But an animal may have, and probably does 
have, other emotions which are so intimately related 
to the moral nature, as instruments, as to be readi- 
ly mistaken for its essential powers, or character- 
istics. An animal may have the emotion of pity, 
and also an impulse that secures justice, so far as it is 
essential to animallife. They, certainly, instinctive- 
ly act as though they had such emotions. It may 
be that they have only a simple impulse, that secures 
the proper action, while in man, there may precede 
every one of his acts, comprehension, the sense of 
of Obligation, and choice. If we say that Obliga- 
tion can only follow comprehension of ends, then 
we must allow that the simple impulses, which se- 
cure justice, truth and the like, are in the same 
line as Obligation would require, were there compre- 
hension of the results, and so like it in every re- 
spect as to be distinguished from it with great 
difficulty. 


If animals have a comprehension of moral rela- 
tions, with the accompanying sense of Obligation, 
and that consciousness of the comprehension of 
relations and sense of obligation, which is Cozsczence 
itself, or the product of Conscience, we see no 
proof of it. Wecan account for all their actions, 
perfectly, by referring to some lower principle of 
instinctive impulse, which in them is self-directive. 


Cause of Wretchedness. 275 


All men give evidence that they have all these ele- 
ments, which can be reckoned as belonging to con- 
science. They may be in a wretched state of ac- 
tivity, through ignorance; or the scale of humanity 
may be so low that animal impulses seem to have 
the entire sway, and thus moral distinctions may 
have made no impression on the language of de- 
graded tribes. But this no more proves that these 
moral powers are not present, than the absence of 
algebraic language and methods, among ignorant 
men, is proof that such men have no power to 
generalize in numbers. Whenever search has been 
made for the elements of conscience in man, they 
have been found. They are at least potentially 
present, as the blade is present in the grain of corn. 
The work of missionaries in all parts of the world 
abundantly proves this. 

We see, then, that the moral nature of man is 
all that it could be, and leave him a free and pro- 
eressive being. 

All the wretchedness of the world comes from 
two things, from zgnorance of the relations of acts to 
the great end of life, and that strange perverseness 
which leads men to choose against the sense of Obli- 
gation. If both of these evils were remedied, man 
would still be a free, progressive being, as new re- 
lations and conditions of activity opened before him; 
but his choices always being according to Obliga- 
tion, and his comprehension of all new relations 
being perfect, his course would be like that of a 
ship, when it moves ina direct line from port to port ; 
while now he is at best, like a ship that makes its 


276 Instinct. 


“way midst fogs, and darkness, and adverse winds. 
And, too often, the pilot deserts the helm, leaving 
the ship to float, as the winds and currents chance 
to move. This condition of the race, all see and ac- 
knowledge. As to the final result of this condition, 
and as to the remedy for it, there is great disagree- 
ment. It does not come within our province to 
seek for a remedy, or to declare that none is need- 
ed. It was our business in making this survey of 
.the instinctive principles, to find their position in 
man, as a being able to guide himself, through his 
higher nature,—to contrast his condition with that 
of animals, which are guided by those appetites 
and instincts which man is called upon to guide 
and limit in himself. 


Here, then, we close our discussion in relation 
to man, as belonging to this world alone. He has 
a physical system, with senses and reflexive move- 
ments, as the animals have. He has appetites and 
instincts like theirs in kind, but differing from theirs 
in degree, as theirs differ among the various species. 
He has instincts also,—such as we see no trace of in 
them,—which relate to the progress of society. 
He has a comprehending power capable of under- 
standing his relations to the universe, and the pow- 
er of choice in selecting his line of action, in the 
world. He has, with this power, the Sense of Ob- 
ligation, which impels him to act, and punishes him 
if he does not; and at the same time it impels him 
to obtain the knowledge necessary for reaching the 
results that secure the highest good. He suffers 


Man and Animals Compared. eM 


from ignorance; and this shows that he is not a 
perfect being now, even in the agencies which se- 
cure progress. His nobleness is seen in the outfit 
given him, which forbids him to remain inignorance, 
and enables him to improve by the experience and 
labors of all the generations before him. 

The perfection of the animal will appear in ev- 
ery one of the species, if his activities have full play. 
That there shall be such uniformity of excellence, 
among members of the human race, if not impossi- 
ble, is something for many generations yet to come 
to aim at. There have, thus far, in every age,been 
those whose higher nature ruled. They might be 
wanting in some kinds of knowledge, but they had 
reached the highest plane of action which it is pos- 
sible for man to reach. There have been others, 
who have given themselves up to their bodily appe- 
tites and instincts. This is the lowest plane of ac- 
tion to which man can sink. He is then vastly 
lower, in his actions, than the brutes can be, be- 
cause his animal propensities have no such limita- 
tion and self-guidance, as theirs have. 

The works of an animal are for himself and 
those associated with him, or to spring from him. 
The works of man are for generations to come, and 
often for those of foreign and even hostile nations. 
The animal acts best when he acts as his appetites 
and instincts impel. Man feels all these impulses, 
and has, in addition, the Sense of Obligation, as an 
impulse, that may work with them or against them ; 
and which he must obey, in all its commands, or 
suffer its immediate and terrible punishment. 


278 Instinct. 


When we have considered the religious instincts 
of man, we can mark other differences between him 
and the highest of the lower animals, as we shall 
then have other elements of character that belong 
only to him. 


PEC TUR Bex be 


RELIGIOUS INSTINCTS. —SUMMARY AND CONCLU- 
SION. 


Summary of principles.— Their existence denied.— May be dormant.— 
Assert their sway.— Knowledge of God.—Instinct of a child — 
Natural Religion —Rkevelation.—Instinct of Prayer—Of Wor- 
ship.—Analogous to Animal Instincts —Individual Accountability. 
—Diagram of Powers —Explanation of Activities —Choice of an 
Ultimate End.—Provisions for every Appetite and Desire —Sum- 
mary of Lectures—Defects of our Education. Man's power over 
the Universe —His relationship to it—Prepare the way for Pro- 
gress—The Laborers needed —Influence of names.— Transition 
Period.—Final results of the study and control of all the Powers. 


WE have considered man in his animal nature, as 
possessing appetites and instincts which act with- 
out a guiding power in them or among them. We 
have also shown the relation of this animal nature 
toa higher nature, which is fitted to control it, and 
has, as its own possession, the means—by automat- 
ic powers and free-personality—of controlling itself. 
All of these powers thus balanced, would justify 
themselves to Reason, if this world and the physi- 
cal life of man were their only sphere of action, and 
the limit of their duration in each individual. But 
there is a whole group of emotions, aspirations and 
impulses, which seem to be meaningless, if man’s 
conscious activity is limited to the duration of his 


280 Instinct. 


physical life, and there is no Intelligent Being above 
him who has personal relations to him. 

It is in order now for us to enumerate these act- 
ive principles, of what may be called the Relzgzous 
nature of man, in distinction from his JZora/,and to 
point out their analogy to the lower instinctive 
principles. It is the work of the Natural Theolo- 
gian, to interpret these principles fully and to pro- 
nounce upon their value or worthlessness to man. 

These instinctive principles are— 

1. Belief in some supernatural being—or beings. 

2. Belief in accountability, or relationship to 
that being in such measure as for good or evil to 
come from it. 

3. Belief in immortality, and the continuance of 
this relation after death. 

4. The Instinct of prayer, as a means of estab- 
lishing relations with this being. 

5. The Instinct of worship, including the emo- 
tion of veneration and its expression. 

The existence of these beliefs and impulses as 
something essential to humanity, has been denied, 
and they are in some cases so dormant or weak 
through the degradation of the man, that like some 
of the lower instinctive principles, they do not make 
themselves known to observers till the proper con- — 
ditions are applied for bringing them into special 
activity. In proof of their universality, we can only 
appeal to the present condition of the race.* 

These principles assert their sway over those 
who, as speculative philosophers, have denied their 





* See Appendix—Note A. 


Existence of God. 281 


existence, and they appear in some form in every 
religion from the highest tothe lowest. And when 
men wonder at the number of religions and the ab- 
surd notions connected with religious practices, they 
would do well to remember that all these are man- 
ifestations of the instincts or impulses of a religious 
nature. They prove that man has such impulses. 
And that is all we wish now to show. We are not 
called upon to show that these impulses are either 
useless or of the highest importance, though we are 
permitted to state our belief that they are the high- 
est instinctive impulses of our nature,—that Obli- 
cation enters this field to strengthen every impulse 
to action—and that one of the most reasonable of 
all things, from the analogy of nature, is to expect 
that the means of satisfying these instincts will be 
provided for man. 

This instinctive belief in the existence of a God, 
has never of itself proved to be directive, so as to 
give a knowledge of God directly, that Reason could 
approve of. ‘The knowledge of God, so far as man 
has gained it for himself, has come from the com- 
prehending power,—either from that portion of it 
called Pure Reason, evolving necessary notions of 
an absolute, perfect being; or it has come as a ne- 
cessary induction from the contemplation of the 
works of nature, including the constitution of man. 
From this intellectual notion of God, there would 
be gradually gained by the study of God’s works, a 
knowledge of his character; and from that charac- 
ter, inferences could be rationally drawn as to his 
relations to man and what he would do for him. 


282 Instinct. 


The probability of a Revelation in words, would be 
settled, and the proper tests of such a Revelation 
would be determined. So that, in the end, man’s 
Reason would be satisfied as to the existence of 
God, His character, and relations to man, and the 
nature and extent of His Communications to him. 
All such knowledge would be of slow growth, 
and it is evident that if religion depended solely 
upon such knowledge, it could only be in the later 
and more perfect forms of society that an adequate 
knowledge of God could be reached, or that a Rey- 
elation could be so tested by Reason as to be ac- 
cepted on rational grounds. 


But in distinction from all this, there is in man 
the Instinct of a child, or of a dependent towards 
some Unseen Power. This instinct manifests itself 
as a power in all races of men, so that religion does 
not begin as a product of Reason, or as a result 
of induction from the study of the works of nature. - 
This impulse, or this instinctive belief, has been so 
strong as to give rise to the numberless gods of the 
heathen, and to belief in oracles, auguries, signs 
and visions, for the guidance of man. They have 
all been believed in, because they are such mani- 
festations in kind as this instinct leads man to ex- 
pect. They have been accepted in all their crudi- 
ties, because the comprehending Power of man 
has not done its appropriate work in giving the 
light and guidance to this instinct, which it ought 
to furnish. It plainly has but two methods of giv- 
ing light on this subject. The first is through the 


Prayer— Worship. 283 


study of nature,—or Watural Religion; and the 
second through Revelation, which it can test, as to 
its source, and consequent validity. It would lead 
us too far from our subject to follow the baffled 
strivings of this instinct, in seeking by itself alone 
the satisfaction of its own yearnings. But there 
are certain beliefs joined with this instinct that are 
like special instinctive impulses. The first is the 
belief in accountability to this unseen Being; and 
the second is belief in immortality, which carries 
the accountability beyond this life. 

The third manifestation of instinct correlated 
with the belief in God, and accountability,—or of His 
personal relation to us,—is Prayer. The instinct 
of prayer is themost manifest of all the religious in- 
stincts, and is more nearly self-directive than any 
other of them; and it is so strong, that, at times, 
it breaks through every philosophical theory of ne- 
cessity, or pantheism, or atheism itself. 

But inthe addition to the impulse of prayer, is that 
of adoration,—of zworship. There is in this no ser- 
vile fear; but theremay beawe. There may be no 
desire of favor, but a pouring out of the soul, in 
adoration and praise, which has no end beyond what 
is found in the act itself, as meeting a demand of our 
nature. It is the gratification of an instinct, which 
forms a part of the original constitution of man. 


In all these things,—belief in God, in immortal- 
ity, in accountability, and in having the instinctive 
impulses of prayer and praise ¢owards an unseen Be- 
wmg,—man stands alone, so far as we can judge. 


284 Instinct. 


These instinctive beliefs and the instinctive actions 
are strongly analogous to some found in the lower 
animals, and almost a perfect type of the instincts 
of a child towards a parent. But having reference 
to an wuseen Being and reaching towards another 
life, they are peculiar. They are, however, in this, 
analogous to the instincts of such animals as pro- 
vide for the future, of which they can know noth- 
ing by inference, either from their own past exper- 
ience, or from any knowledge gained from those of 
their kind. The analogy holds in regard to action 
respecting an unknown future, but these principles 
and the instincts, in other respects, are entirely un- 
like. The latter relate to: the continuance of the 
species, or the comfort of the individual, while the 
former relate to accountability,—zxd7vidual account- 
ability to God,—which Webster said was the greatest 
thought he ever had. We have reached, then, in 
the instincts of the religious nature, the origin of — 
the highest thoughts, and the. most powerful im- 
pulses to action through love or fear. And as un- 
derstanding gives direction to these impulses, by 
itself or through revelation, we find the authority 
of obligation joined with them to secure them from 
defeat by the lower nature. 

We are now prepared to give a diagram that 
shall aid in showing the comparative condition of 
all the powers possessed in common by men and ani- 
mals—it being understood that the word “ IN- 
STINCT”’ only marks the degznning of that kind of 
activity which is continued in some form among all - 
the higher powers. 


Field of Experience. 


Impulses 


Conditional ° 


for 


Experience. 


Conditional 
for 
Instinctive 


Action. 


Diagram of Powers. 






RELIGIOUS NATURE, 
(for another life.) 


Revealing 
Free Personality. 


MorAL NATURE. 
| (governing all below.) 










(simple 
volition.) 











SENSIBILITIES. 









x 
a 
= INTELLECT. INTELLECT. 
, (subordinate 





to Instinct.) 








INSTINCTS. INSTINCTS. | 9 

- |(supersensuous) / (supersensuous) | 5 
oO 

HH 

. ; = 
APPETITES. APPETITES ok 

re 

(functional) (functional) LA 


Reflex Action. 
ANIMAL LIFE 
Sensation. 


Reproduction. 
VEGETATIVE LIFE 






Nutrition. 


volition.)| - 


SENSIBILITIES. 







Animals, 


ae 






285 


Common 
to Man 
and 


Animals, 


286 Instinct. 


It is impossible for any diagram to adequately 
represent the complex powers of man or of ani- 
mals in all their relations,—for the lowest powers 
are often united in action with the highest,—but it 
may do something to aid us in gaining a connected 
view of the activities which we have investigated, so 
far as our purpose required that we should investi- 
gate them. 

We find at the basis of all activity, in animals 
and men, the vegetative life, by which the body is 
sustained and the species continued. Nextto this, 
comes the truly azzmal nature, as the condition for 
sensation, reflex action, and  sense-perceptions. 
All these must be common to men and animals, as 
the condition for instinctive action. In addition 
to this machinery, we want impulse to action. And 
as the first impulse to instinctive action, or one of 
the first, we have the appetites which arise from the 
functional activity of organs. They belong to the 
vegetative life, but involve sensations and have no di- 
rect dependence upon the will. Next in order we have 
certain Instincts, which szzzzster to these appetites, 
or in other words, the animal has, as an original gift, 
the knowledge and skill needed to enable him to 
properly satisfy his appetites; and this original 
knowledge and skill constitute animal Instinct,— 
Instinct in its lowest plane of action. 

We have regarded Instinct when used as a gen- 
eral term, as simply a name for the peculiar action 
of various powers; and have shown that so far as 
any animal is wanting in any instinct or power, in 
the beginning of life, to care for himself, the lack 
is supplied by the Instinct of the parent. 


Lntellect—Sensibility. 287 


But since the Appetites are not sufficiently 
broad to furnish impulses for all the action needed 
for animals of high rank, we have the Deszres, so 
called, which do not rise from any function of the 
body. ‘These give rise to whole series of instinctive 
activities, of special kinds. And so here we find in- 
stinctive action rising into a higher plane than the 
mere satisfying of Appetite. 

The Appetites and Jmustinctive impulses, and 
the Instincts which guide action specifically, are the 
necessary provision made for every being that is to 
have an experience. Sometimes the instincts take 
the place of experience entirely,—they always must 
involve so much of original knowledge and skill 
as are needful for carrying on the work of life, until 
experience can be gained to aid in the work. 

Above these instincts is /ztellect, by which the 
being comprehends relations and the results of its 
own acts. Inthe animal, this is so low, or rather 
so weak, as to be subordinated to the instincts of 
the body. In man it is the servant of a higher na- 
ture, which by the aid of the intellect subordinates 
and controls the instincts of the body. 

In both animals and men are found Sexszdzlity 
and will—Sensibility in man, taking a very wide 
range, compared with that in animals,—its highest 
range being beyond his animal nature, into the 
moral and religious. W7//in the animal seems to 
be merely the obedient executive, carrying out the 
suggestions of the instinctive powers; while in man, 
it performs the same office work, and is also the 
power, by which every appetite, instinct and desire, 


288 Instinct. 


may be held in check at the bidding of his higher 
nature. In connection with this office of Will, in 
man, the power of choice is manifested,—CHOICE OF 
AN ULTIMATE END FOR LIFE, or the line of activity 
for life, which determines each man’s position in the 
world, so far as it is possible for him to break through 
the bounds, which physical organization prescribes 
for him. It gives individuality among men, from 
some principle superior to physical organization, 
and hence the diversity of human life. We honor 
or despise men for what they are through their own 
choice. 

We can discover no power like this in the an- 
imal. His position is marked out for him by his 
structure and instincts. He has no power to learn 
the history of the past, or to contemplate the possibil- 
ities of the distant future, and then train himself, 
by years of labor and self-denial, for the conflict. 
This power man has. 

Passing still higher, we find the Moral Nature, 
with its great central impulse, OBLIGATION, which 
governs, or ought to govern, all the powers below it. 
It is to the higher nature of man what the bodily 
instincts are in animals, except that in man, Intel- 
lect must give the knowledge needful to direct, and 
Will the limitation of action. So that every act of 
man from the impulse of Obligation involves the 
exercise of free personality. 

Knowledge of relations through the Power of Com- 
’ prehension, the Sense of Obligation arising in view of 
that comprehension, and the Power of Choice, in accord- 
ance with Obligation, or against tt, are the attributes of 


Religious Nature. 289 


@ PERSON. Nothing like this combination of powers 
is found in the animal, nor is it needed. The natu- 
ral impulses and instincts of the animal, are limited 
by the functions of the body, to certain periods, or 
to a given degree of strength, so that they are self- 
regulative and need no limiting power above them. 
In man, they are mainly impulses indicating direc- 
tion, but their limitation must come from the man 
himself. They bring ruin to him before they limit 
themselves. 


Still higher, we find the Relzgzous Nature, that 
joins this life to another. It gives hopes of immor- 
tality, belief in a Father’s care, and sends the de- 
sires of the heart up in prayer to Him. If there is 
not another life, if there is not a Power that can 
answer to our cry, then the Religious nature of man 
is such a blunder as we find in no other part of 
creation. Every appetite, desire,-and instinct, 
below, has something responsive to it. They are 
all given, because there is something in the uni- 
verse that answers to them. The insect deposits 
her egg in autumn, because the earth is to move 
on hundreds of millions of: miles, and bring the 
spring time with warmth and leaves for her young. 
So every animal instinct is answered. 

Shall we believe that this Religious nature is a 
mockery ? and that, in answer to all these instincts, 
there is no Father to listen when we call? no love 
to succor, and no light and blessedness beyond the 
grave? The heavens and the earth in their adap- 
tation to the nature of every plant and animal on 

13 


290 Instinct. 


the globe, cry out against such a belief. As we 
find provisions in our earth rising in kzxzd for every 
animal and man, as their wants rise to higher 
planes, we accept these provisions as proof that He, 
who has cared for myriads of beings below us, and 
for us to this point, has not mocked us in regard 
to this one great provision which our highest na- 
ture demands. 


We have thus discussed, so far as we have been 
able, the topics presented in our first lecture, as the 
programme of our work, which we now bring to a 
close. 

We considered first, the operations in inorganic 
nature, foreshadowing Instinct. 

Here we found, in the structure of the earth, the 
constitution of air and water, the change of seasons, 
and chemical changes of the soil, the same kind of 
provision for all organic beings, as are made by in- 
stinctive knowledge and skillin the animal kingdom. 

Entering then the organic kingdom, the simula- 
tion of instinct was more clearly shown in the 
operations of all plant life and in the physiological 
changes of the animal body. | 

We next came to the simple instincts, that care 
for the body, supplementing structure and function 
of organs, so that the work begun within the body 
may be carried on in a wider sphere than structure 
and function alone can reach. These simple forms 
of Instinct were found to have the Appetites as 
their impulses. 

But these were not broad enough for all the de- 


Summary. 291 


mands of animal life; and to meet these demands 
of wider range, we found impulses, or desires and 
instincts, arising beyond the sphere of any specific 
organization. Among the instinctive acts arising 
from such impulses, we found the migration of ani- 
mals, the storing of food for winter and the fear of 
special enemies. 

We next traced the instincts related to special 
structures, and those necessary for the existence of 
certain communities ofanimals. So much we found 
needful for adult individuals. But nature cares also 
for the species; in fact, among the lower animals 
the care of the individual seems to have constant 
reference to the preservation of the species. 

Here we found three distinct topics for discus- 
sion,—the instincts of the young, to bring them 
into relation with their parents and the world,—in- 
stincts, which, like those of the gall-fly, demand 
certain changes in other objects to complete their 
work,—and the peculiar instincts of one stage of 
being, preparatory to another, as seen in the devel- 
opment of insects from the lowest form to the high- 
est. We then treated of the variation of instinct, 
through the abnormal conditions of domestication, 
and of instinct, as the Law of animal life. 

At this point we gave a summary, showing 
Instinct not to be the manifestation of any pe- 
culiar principle, but to be simply a method of ac- 
tion common to all beings and to all their powers, 
in a certain stage of their activity, — involving 
that impulse, knowledge and skill, which the being 
must have as an original gift, as a basis for expe- 


292 Instinct. 


rience; as it must have a certain organization 
of the body, as a basis for independent growth. 
We also showed that Nature gives as little In- 
stinct to all beings as possible, and leaves the rest 
to experience. But if experience is impossible, 
then she completes the work by Instinct. 

We then treated of Intelligence among animals, 
—of Intelligence as the servant of Instinct, thus 
accounting for the uniform plane of life in each spe- 
cies of the animal kingdom. 

Next we considered the animal Instincts proper 
of man, and then his higher Instincts or Desires, 
finding in them the basis of his social nature. 

And last of all, we have treated of the Moral 
and Religious Instincts, and have found in Obliga- 
tion the great controlling instinctive impulse which 
modifies all others in man. 

This work we have done, as we announced that 
we should do it, mainly in the service ofman. We 
have not forgotten that the lower animals are sen- 
tient beings,—that many of them have a high capac- 
ity for enjoyment and suffering. When we remem- 
ber that the lower tribes alone inhabited this earth 
for long ages,—compared with which, the highest 
antiquity claimed for man is but as yesterday,—we 
cannot regard mere animal enjoyment of the brute 
creation as insignificant, in the plan of creation. 
And whatever enters into that plan, is worthy of 
the thought and study of man. But the capacity 
for bodily suffering cannot be greater in the ani- 
mal than in man; and the bodily suffering of man, 
is as nothing, compared with his capacity to suffer in 


Study of Man. 293 


With all our boasted reforms and advance in gov- 
ernment, education and religion, the degradation 
and suffering that fill the dark places of the earth 
are the inheritance of man, and not of the lower 
animals. And this degradation comes from ignor- 
ing or transgressing the law of man’s being,—by 
giving loose rein to the animal appetites and In- 
stincts, or by attempting to repress them without 
reason. We must come toa more thorough study 
of man. This study must take no secondary place 
in our systems of education, not even in the ‘‘ NEW 
EDUCATION.” We have been forgetting that the 
highest knowledge for man is a knowledge of his 
own powers, and of his relations to the whole uni- 
verse and to God; we have taught, at least by prac- 
tice, that the highest knowledge is found in the 
study of Natural Science, in its practical applica- 
tions, and in the laws of: trade. We have often 
dignified mere aggregated facts, of local value, with 
the name of science, and have thought more of con- 
trolling steam-engines than of controlling the pow- 
ers of men or of teaching men the necessity of con- 
trolling themselves, and the methods of doing the 
work, We have sent them out to study the world, 
but have failed to show them how they are linked 
to it, and how they ought to rise above its power 
by, first of all, obeying its demands. It is only 
through a knowledge of physical laws and of his 
own nature, in all its planes, especially in that plane 
of instinctive impulses where activities arise and 
strive without his bidding, and in spite of his Will, 
—it is only through this broad knowledge of self, 


204 Instinct. 


strive without his bidding, and in spite of his Will, 
—it is only through this broad knowledge of self, 
that man can bring every power into service, and 
make it minister to the great work of life which he 
has made the object of his choice. He is linked by 
an iron fate to this universe, but so linked that, 
through the aid of his higher powers, he may make 
the whole material universe his servant, almost as 
readily as he can control his own body. Can he 
not whisper around the globe, as easily as across the 
room? Do not the stars and compass tell him his 
pathway onthe ocean? Doeshe not, while he sleeps, 
travel with a steed that cannot tire? Can he not 
pluck the fruits of far offlands as readily as those that 
grow in hisown garden? Can he not see the storma 
thousand miles away and prepare for its coming? 
It is because all nature has, or may have, rela- 
tions to man,—because he is acted upon by every 
force, and related to all the changes of the organic 
and inorganic world,—that the study of nature is 
of any value. The whole physical universe is seen 
to centre in him. What problem of the past geo- 
logic ages can be studied, that does not, in some 
way, bear upon the question of man’s origin or des- 
tiny? The Botanist and Zodlogist may study abor- 
tive stamens, or forms of birds’ nests, but they can- 
not, in this day, disconnect even these from some 
theory of man. The astronomer may watch the 
stars, measure the craters of the moon, analyze the 
blazing tongues of fire that encircle the sun, but no 
conclusion he reaches is complete till its relation 
to the past, present or future of man, is determined. 


Man and the Universe. 295 


Man is the one point towards which all the rays of 
light in the physical universe seem to converge. 
And whatever ray is struck by the searcher for 
truth, if he follows its direction, man is his ultimate 
goal. We may believe that this relationship has 
been established by the direct and repeated inter- 
ference of Creative Power and Intelligence; or we 
may believe, if we can, that it has come from some 
law of the universe, which from nebulous matter, 
has evolved all past and present forms of life; but 
the fact of man’s universal relationship still remains. 
We announced, in the beginning of this course, 
that it was no part of our plan to discuss theories 
of development, which attempt to account for the 
origin of the relations among organic beings. We 
have referred to them, only incidentally. Our work 
has been, mainly, to find how things are, what the 
relations are, which the instinctive principles of ac- 
tion now establish between the animal kingdom and 
the world around it, and especially, the position of 
these principles in man. We have found it impos- 
sible to study these, without showing their relation 
to every class of powers which man possesses. And 
so complex 1s man,—so linked together are all his 
activities,—they so act together in every effort he puts 
forth,—that he must be studied as a whole, before any 
one portion of his nature can be fully understood. 
Each portion of his nature has relations to the 
others, and he has relations to the world, upon 
which his whole activity depends. 

' It has unfortunately happened that too many 
have attempted to study man, without due atten- 


296 Instinct. 


tion to these relationships. Some have placed man 
in a world of their own creation, that does not cor- 
respond to the world of reality. Others have studied 
him from a single stand point, in physical science. 
Others, still, have ignored the truly animal nature, 
which is the agency through which man works, and 
by which he may be controlled. 

The result of all such partial study of his nature, 
has been unfortunate,—unfortunate for science, but 
more unfortunate in its influence on the social, in- 
tellectual, and moral progress of the race. 

All the problems that relate to man will not be 
settled by the present generation, nor within the 
coming century. We are only in the infancy of 
those sciences, which are to fully reveal to us man’s 
nature, and the best conditions of his physical, so- 
cial, and moral development. Thousands of mis- 
takes will be made in Politics, Religion, and Edu- 
cation in all its branches, before our schools will 
present to us a course of study and discipline that 
will be what the best good of the world demands. 
Our railroads, telegraphs, and other inventions and 
discoveries, will be perfected long before a perfect, or 
even tolerable, system of education and form of gov- 
ernment, will be agreed upon by all men, even when 
they have the same society to provide for. What 
can we do insuch a chaos of opinion? Little more 
than to understand that there is chaos, and govern 
ourselves accordingly. Instead of ruthlessly pulling 
down what has been done, before our time, simply 
because there is clamor for change, let it stand till 
its uselessness or injury is clearly seen,—it will do 


Progress. 297 


little harm till then. Instead of undertaking to 
complete the work, which will take the time, and 
strength, and wisdom, and suffering, of many gen- 
erations, let us write upon all our work, “ Zo be 
taken away, when better materials and better methods 
are discovered.’ Let us encourage those who are 
to come after us, to make progress, by sweeping 
our work away as soon as its defects are seen. But 
instead of this, we are likely to be satisfied with 
a defective structure because it is the work of our 
own hands, or of those whom we admire, and to 
pronounce anathemas upon him who shall dare to 
remove its foundations, or even speak slightingly 
of its boasted perfections. Thus the influence of a 
great name has reached down through generations, 
protecting gross errors that ought to have been 
swept away—errors that palsied the power of thought, 
and forbade the growth of man’s better nature. 

Incontrast to this veneration for established error, 
because it has long passed current for truth, we find 
those who would sweep from modern life every ves- 
tige of the past. Their strength is spent mainly in 
demolishing; or, if they build at all, it is with wood, 
and hay, and stubble, hastily gathered and destined 
soon to perish. 

We claim for ourselves no right to entail errors 
upon those who come after us; nor dare we yet 
stand idle, for fear of making mistakes. He who 
waits till he is sure of not making them, will do 
very little for the world. 


When I consider how much still remains un- 
13” 


208 Instinct. 


known,—when I consider the mistakes of the best 
observers, and the disagreements of those who in- 
terpret accepted facts, Ican only assure myself that 
these subjects have been presented as I have read 
them in nature, and can only hope that the work 
has been done with due caution. The conclusions 
are presented as suggestions, whose truth is to be 
tried by future observers. No one will be more 
pleased than myself, when these conclusions are dis- 
placed by others, which plainly arise from broader 
and sounder generalizations. But such generaliza- 
tions can never be reached by those theorists who 
manufacture their own facts, nor by those observers 
who have reduced themselves by their narrow fields 
of labor to the condition of scientific artisans. 

To secure the results which all desire,—the full 
- knowledge of man in all his relations,—two classes 
of laborers are needed; those who give toa single 
department of Nature, or phase of society, the study 
of a lifetime, and those who have power to use 
the labors of such men in forming a system of ed- 
ucation or the machinery of government. But the 
specialist is often tempted to generalize far beyond 
where he has the ability to go. His success in one 
department gives him courage to enter fields as a 
master, where he is only a novice. His acknowl- 
edged excellence, in a single department, gives his 
words weight on subjects of which he is utterly ig- 
norant. So it not unfrequently happens that a 
learned man does as much mischief by his crude 
theories on subjects beyond his sphere of knowl- 
edge, as he does good by his positive additions to 


Progress of Natural Science. 299 


science, in his own proper field of labor. The sys- 
tematizer, on the other hand, is often so wanting in 
the power of original observation, and scientific 
training, and so ignorant of Nature, asto be unable 
to secure facts for himself or to test and select 
those fitted for his purpose, when they are supplied 
by others. He is likely to start with just facts 
enough of local value to lead him astray in all 
broad generalizations. He treats of the world as 
he sees it in one isolated spot, or as he thinks it 
ought to be. He formsa logical system of science, 
but when it is carefully tested, Nature disowns it. 
She has a logic of her own. His theories are with- 
out support. The first careful observer points out 
their defects and they become a mass of rubbish to 
lumber book-shelves. 

There is apparently no help for this state of 
things in the present condition of science; espe- 
cially of those departments of science which relate 
to human life and action. 

In Natural science the materials are fast accu- 
mulating. We have abroad an army of trained ob- 
servers far better than the world ever saw before. 
The means of observing,—the telescopes, micro- 
scopes, spectroscopes, and museums, as well as the 
means of travelling,—are tenfold better than they 
were a century ago, In one yeara man may see 
more of the earth than Humboldt could see in ten. 
Give him now Humboldt’s power of seeing,—not 
with the eyes alone, but with the mind,—and how 
wonderfully have these modern inventions increased 
his power of observing! Thus, early in life, can 


300 Instinct. 


now be gathered materials which were utterly be- 
yond the reach of the great masters of the past 
ages. These facilities are now put to their best 
use, by a most accurate training of the senses. The 
whole man has been trained as an observer of na- 
ture. In the observing and recording of facts, 
great accuracy has been secured, so that in the 
works of our greatest living naturalists, we can, in 
the majority of cases, implicitly trust their state- 
ment of facts, even while dissenting entirely from 
the conclusions, which they draw from those facts. 
This is a great step. For although facts are not all, 
—for facts may lead astray,—yet we must have 
them. They are the materials with which we are to 
build. It isa great point to be sure of our mate- 
rials—to have them in abundance, to be sure that 
they are sound enough to bear the strain, if they 
are only put in the right position. 

If we could have the facts without the crude 
theories, which bind them together and too often 
conceal them, or keep them from their appropriate 
use,—as brick and stone are wasted in poorly con- 
structed buildings with low ceilings, in gloomy 
corners, and over cesspools, which bring disease to 
all that inhabit them,—we should be fortunate. 
But few men are like David of old, willing to col- 
lect materials that others may build wisely and well. 
The building must go up with crude and scanty 
materials, according to some hastily-formed plan. 
Such a building sometimes stands for generations, 
because some famous man built it, or slept in it; 
or simply because it has stood so long, that it seems 


Transition Period. 301 


a sort of sacrilege to tear it away! Soit is with 
systems of belief—with theories. They may 
abound with uncontrovertible facts, but every fact 
may still be the source of mischief, because misinter- 
preted. And yet these theories stand because they 
have some famous names to uphold them. 

But let us have faith and patience. The solar 
system had to wait long before man could see its 
beauty, from the Sun as centre, and form a true 
system of Astronomy. Men raged against a true 
theory of the heavens as infidel and absurd, and 
clung to their old systems invented by great men. 
The chemical elements waited longer to have men 
learn their simple laws of combination, and that 
bodies become heavier by being burned. Not a 
century has passed since men believed in phlogis- 
ton,—that something escaped from bodies when 
burning, so that they become lighter,—as some 
men now believe that when the air is heavy, the 
smoke falls! Longer still did the earth wait to 
have her strata counted and measured; and a few 
of the generation still remain, who believe that 
the earth is not quite six thousand years older than 
themselves. , 

When old notions begin to break up because 
shown to be false, then men rush to opposite ex- 
tremes. Then, in the disturbance of the ¢ransztion 
period,all sorts of crudities appear. The best thing 
for the overthrow of a bad theory, is that it shall 
have as many supporters and hard workers in its 
favor as possible. As a building with poor founda- 
tion, and weak materials, and defective workman- 


302 Instinct. 2 


ship, is sure to fall by its own weight, if built high 
enough, so a false theory is most readily destroyed, 
by encouraging its upholders to pile upon it every 
fact they can accumulate. False theories,—those 
venerable with age, and those glittering with the 
polish which genius has just given them,—have 
their worshippers and admirers. 

All these things will right themselves. The 
generations will die, and the influence of great 
names is growing less every year. The homes of 
the great do not stand long in the way of modern 
progress. I passed along your streets, and saw the 
crape upon the door, and knew that the great Ora- 
tor, Statesman, and Scholar slept in the home he 
had hallowed by his presence,—a home that in 
other days might have become a shrine. I passed 
that way again. The home had vanished. Mass- 
ive walls of stone had taken its place, and the “ Ev- 
ERETT BLOCK” was echoing with the din of trade. 
So the opinions of the great men of this age must 
meet the wants of the age, or they cannot stand. 
The theories that charm the crowd, will stand only 
as they represent the truth. For it is with truth 
that men will build to stand. It must be block, 
and cement, and form. And if man would build 
for his own wants, and for the world, that which 
will remain, he must study himself—all his needs— 
his needs as an animal, as a man, as an individual, 
as member of society,—and as a worshipper of the 
Invisible. When all the members of society under- 
stand all these things, there willno longer be a re- 
pression of instincts as wicked. They will be cul- 


Conclusions. 303 


tured to their full extent as conditions for higher 
action. They will be trained in obedience to a will 
guided by Intellect, and urged on by Obligation. 
They will be ready, at any moment, to come into 
action, at any moment to retreat, to lead in the 
fight, or to support another division. Then will 
the man be educated, and then, and not till then, 
will there be as true a theory in every department 
of Nature, and of human life, as there is now of the 
Solar System. Then “men will build states and 
churches as naturally as caterpillars buiid webs,” 
and for the same reason that they build them now, 
because their instincts compel them to the work; 
but then they will build them as wisely as caterpillars 
build webs, because they will be as truly self-guided 
by the use of the higher powers, as the caterpillar 
is wisely guided by the lower instinct, that blindly 
directs, giving knowledge and skill. Happy will 
be the thousandth generation, if the moral Instincts 
and Intellect combined, appropriating all the provi- 
sions that have been made for them, shall approach 
in their uniform results for man, what the lowest in- 
stinctive principles to- Seal secure for the lowest 
tribes of creation. 





















"ba * ‘ ) Ey is 
*£a is ey | 1 
ahrat 
** i 
Yo! 
. #] : (7) 
- ‘. > 
. Tone 4 
uf U pe 
‘ » ne 
; be . an Be an 
ohh Gel HATA: a i 
\ : : 
{ fe Rll Nl Sh 
* a ae i ‘ « ' ret Peet ts d erate ’ fire cee 
» p © ™ } fs 
P : sr r ; H is ety | ; ‘ | tt a AL a tit lad 
ae wauroay: etait oT. ITOK Pit tee xe 
7 ve ee Bets ot he 


vd 


vay Gh ab ERS hovovilsh staw agturiot aul it Nish robo ironies ak 
. monet toift ein atthe olf! iSb2n09 co: sldietoqatt ion? AL Snot 
oy Cope ated Gamat be sontii gt avdigiisr ig’ itoiezsecdy Bil? baat: 
ae aera y, LW hiker og 2evi ‘all sol peshpstpani, jefizga 19 ZEAGOE I 
Bag. Oh er gritiook siz og. of a0 naa gate Rape ie SUCH 
‘a “Bar crt seg aan Pa ‘ aT aor ni yo 
rat sabia fisdl en “gation send? Seat obAstnus fond 
ne: Posty: Magee”, crit es ap%9r faz) yer at. wtnmiset ! 
; ee es | bawogys sda soidw ¥6 sritioob adds 3289, on be 
} ABatishe ix oat Beiaok ot Mody, tale) Xp sei Hoyt ‘ex to gop 
v Tis Stl ecrit oh at Hob ets $1 Bei dy Shatin os 4 
| if “Tae a japée iis celta, e Stibesew ba sits ato voids 
3d wale! lwese haat: won, “why Sivee 99d) SrA bluode set 
a $°99093, By tak 162 rie 2 igor? dno: Fibs 
| tonido 49 \nlley bap 
Praga i Rel kid ve st Bray bieete Uordive’s ‘ante } it 
eae we KO lot wgnixuses Ip 'sidaaed ef ad oid {ROR 5G ’aebst a 
Rites are ? Phe ,ledatiot of gyeiisd bite Fyne ines 7 ot 36, Pele 
AU eee siar g fem 90, Srvina salt Shalt 2 ay od hia? as on tox? 
1 a: oy Sunaina sa avg <r Aarteretoaitent ee souls ‘nas 
= <CBNS tai. weet: Aula sa eiammeeaeny en Lith gl 
ae ig mafia ot Saoiteles ae AG MTs Sab scar vn 
Red gi toy wnditidom: vl i, exes 
Ane tent gang o¢, ob yane 4 
ie 2 a winebease ae 


* 

















APPENDIX. 





A. 


NOTE TO TWELFTH LECTURE. 


THE conditions under which the Lectures were delivered, made it 
difficult, if not impossible, to consider the arguments that have been 
urged against the possession of religious instincts by man, from the 
time of LOCKE’s war against innate ideas tothe present day. <A few 
points from various writers, may enable us to give the doctrine here 
announced, a fairer presentation, than has been made in the Lec- 
ture. , 
It is not contended, that these instincts or their products, exist 
in man naturally, in any such sense as the “zzsate tdeas” were 
supposed to exist,—the doctrine of which Locke opposed. What his 
notion was of that zzzate idea of God, which he denied the existence 
of, he informs us, B. 1. ch. iv., § 17.—‘‘ If God had set any impres- 
sion and character on the understanding of men, it is most reason- 
able to expect it should have been some clear and uniform idea of 
Himself, as far as our weak capabilities were capable to receive so 
incomprehensible and infinite object.” 

Such an idea of God, which should give to man, or be to man, all 
the knowledge of God which he is capable of securing, no one, cer- 
tainly, at the present day, would believe to be innate. 

What we intend to teach, is that the nature of man is such, that 
in its developments, the religious instincts which we have mentioned, 
arise as naturally and as necessarily, as zmpulses, and conditions of 
progress in the true knowledge of God and of our relations to him, as 
the animal instincts arise at certain times, as the condition of growth 
in knowledge by experience. A child may die so young that not 
one of its appetites, desires or instincts, ever comes into play, that we 
know of. Do we on that account say, that such a child had none of 
them? We may say that, because none of them had come into ac- 


300 Instinct. 


tivity, but he had a nature that would surely give rise to them, under 
the proper conditions for its normal development. They are pro- 
vided for in the nature of his being ; and that is all we mean to say of 
the religious instincts. One may be so young, so deficient in origin- 
al mental power, or so degraded, that these religious instincts have 
not been called into activity—sufficiently certain, to make any im- 
pression on the observer. 

The writers who deny the existence of any thing like an innate idea 
of God, seem almost uniformly to admit, by implication, what seems to 
us to be proof of the existence in man of these religious zstincts as 
we have explained them. And we refer here again to the distinc- 
tions drawn in the Tenth Lecture, between zzstinctive and intuitive 
knowledge. 

LOcKE in the section from which we have quoted (§ 17) says,— 
“though the knowledge of a God be the most natural discovery of 
_human Reason, yet the idea of Him is not innate.” "We do not be- 
lieve that the idea of a God is zzza¢e, as Locke used the word “idea,” 
nor in any proper use of that word. But why is it, that “the knozwl- 
edge of a God (should) be the most natural discovery of the human 
Reason,” as Locke admits, unless it be on account of those special 
impulses and tendencies in man’s nature, which we call instincts, that 
certainly urge him on, and in a measure direct him, so that he may 
intellectually make the full discovery of that which shall satisfy the 
yearnings of his being? The knowledge of a God, of which LocKE 
speaks, considered abstractly, is not easy at all; and the fact that 
children receive it so fully as they do, at so early an age, is proof of 
some special adaptability of the ideas relating to God, to the human ~ 
mind. 

CousIN, in his examination of LockF, has made some good points 
on this subject, which we may quote, without assenting to all that is 
implied in the extracts. ‘‘ Lvery thing leads to God,” sayshe. Ani 
again, ‘Do not go to consult the savage, the child, the idiot, to 
know whether they have the idea of God; ask them, or rather with- 
out asking them any thing, ascertain if they have the idea of the im- 
perfect and the finite ; and if they have it,—and they cannot but have 
it, if they have the least apperception,—be sure that they have an 
obscure and confused idea of something infinite and perfect ; de sere 
that what they discern of themselves and of the world, does not suffice 
them, and that they, at once, humble and exalt themselves in an inti- 
mate faith in the existence of something infinite and perfect, that is to 


Appendix. 307 


say, of God. The word may be wanting among them, because the 
idea is not yet clear and distinct ; but no less does it exist within the 
folds of the opening intelligence, and the philosophic observer easily 
discovers it there.” : 

Passing many of the able thinkers, who have treated of this sub- 
ject in some form, as Psychologists simply, we are more interested at 
present, with the views of those, who have of late treated it, from the 
broader field of view—Anthropology. 

Mr. Darwin, in his “ DEscENT OF MAN,” published since these 
Lectures were written, denies that man has naturally the idea of 
God, but he grants all we claim, when he says, ‘If, however, we in- 
clude under the term ‘religion’ the belief in unseen or spiritual 
agencies, the case is wholly different, for this belief seems to be al- 
most universal with the less civilized races.” And the poor Fuegian 
declared in the most solemn manner, says Mr. Darwin, ‘“ Oh, Mr. 
Boynoe, much rain, much snow, blow much,” when he saw Mr. Boy- 
noe, needlessly, as he thought, killing the ducks. And yet Mr. Dar- 
win adds, that he could never discover that the Fuegians believed in 
what we should call a God! Probably not. Nor is that the ques- 
tion here. The question is whether they had struggling within, an 
instinct that tended to reveal God, or to lead them to seek fora 
knowledge of God by all its impulses and tendencies. as other in- 
stincts work inman. It took the killing of those ducks to bring out 
the belief of the Fuegian, in an unseen being who controlled the ele- 
ments, and in man’s accountability to him for his actions. 

Sir JoHn Lussock, after presenting his proof against the exist- 
ence of any knowledge of God, among the degraded tribes of men, 
considering all their superstitions, expresses this sentiment, which is 
quoted approvingly by Darwin, and commented upon by him, as fol- 
lows: “‘ Zt zs not too much to say that the horrible dread of unknown 
evil hangs like a thick cloud over savage life, and embitters every pleas- 
ure. These miserable and indirect consequences of our highest fac- 
ulties, may be compared with the incidental and occasional mistakes 
of the instincts of the lower animals.” To all this we agree, only 
substituting zeigious instincts for “ highest faculties,” and add that 
the mistakes of these, are more terrible than those of the lower in- 
stincts, because they are higher, and are linked in their activity, with 
all of man’s highest powers. They struggle, but they need light and 
guidance, which must come to them, through the comprehending 
powers, from the Revelations in God’s works and Word. 

THE END. 


- 
5 oh y 
t 
uth 


ct ake 2 ij thy ied r ) 
Tt be na Ws iz : - 7 eo 
a lian eee Ly: 
fin POO RNG AE EOE i 
t fj 








OSs ante: 


Bala 


i a 





x 

% 

#3 
: 


we, 











~ 
ee 


nie" 
~ ie 
vee 


wan. 
2280 

Py a 
= 


AS 
ee 


>, 


Te 


— 


x 


me 


<2 
Oo csice: 
Sins 


= 


Pee ge 


+ Sah ty 
Aes 


ene ras + > 
eae 
‘ 


ph 


« 


ee 


Mah 
Ss 





